The End is Only the Beginning
by Sierra Leone
Summary: The night Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan return from Tatooine (E1) they are woken by an intruder. The intruder brings a warning: the end of the Order is near. Killings throughout the galaxy are being made to look like the work of the Jedi, casting doubt on both the Order and the Force. With the intruder's help Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan set out save the Order from destruction. But are they meant to?
1. CH 1: Late Night Warnings

Summary: The night Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan return from Tatooine (E1) they are woken by an intruder. The intruder is an old friend and brings a warning to the Jedi: the end of the Order is near. Yet, the threat does not stem from the return of the Sith lords. Killings throughout the galaxies are being made to look like the work of the Jedi, casting doubt upon the Order and creating a widespread movement to end the Order, the Jedi, and the use of the Force. With the intruder's help Qui-Gon and Obi Wan set out to save the Order from destruction, while still protecting the newfound Chosen One, Anakin Skywalker. The pair's greatest trials lie ahead – torture, imprisonment, grief, alliances, destruction, rebellion, separation, leadership, family, and even love. Qui-Gon remains determined to give his life to save the Order. Obi Wan, changed by the trials begins to wonder if they're truly meant to save it. Perhaps...they're meant to do something more. After all, the end is only the beginning.

A/N – Don't own SW

Chapter 1: Late Night Warnings

The buildings of Coruscant gleamed, even in the dark, reflecting the lights of the sleek speeders as they whizzed across the crowded skyways. The planet's crust was so far below the pointed spires of durasteel and humanity that few ever saw it in their lifetime. They preferred to stay in the skies, oblivious to the soils and oceans they'd ravaged to build their shining city-planet. Even at night it shone!

Daria swore again as the scarce shadows shifted, the tip of her silver hoverboard catching the light of a passing speeder. There was a reason most crimes happened in the Works or the Factory District. It was dark there and it stayed that way. Much better for sneaking around than the Senate District, or worse, the Jedi Temple, which was Daria's target. She'd tried speaking with the Temple's public administrators. She'd tried slipping past security in one of the few public areas of the Temple and had been caught. She'd thought about using the air ducts, but knew given the size of the Temple she might never find her way out.

Thus Daria had opted for a more direct approach. To be precise, she was breaking in. The only problem in that was finding the window she was looking for out of the hundreds in the knights' quarters. She'd been searching for twenty minutes with no success. Daria glanced at her com. If she didn't find the window soon she'd have to leave and come back again tomorrow night. She could only hover outside the Temple windows for so long before one of the sleeping Jedi noticed her. They had an infuriating knack for sensing people skulking about.

Daria eased herself up to the next row of windows. The window she was looking for was the fourth from the end on the northeast corner of the temple where the accommodation sector was located. The problem was she couldn't remember which floor it was on so she had to check them all. Not to mention each room looked virtually identical. The Jedi truly held to their proverbs of few possessions, a trait that until tonight Daria had considered admirable. Now it was only frustrating.

There! Daria sighed in relief at the sight of a familiar pair of brown leather boots slumped against a faded couch. Glancing over her shoulder she pulled a small droid from her satchel and carefully pressed it against the glass, praying to the Force she remembered the proper code to activate it. Unless it had wings and could fly, Daria was mechanically inept. She held her breath and pressed the seven-digit code, relieved when two slender mechanical arms shot out from the body of the droid and sunk two small blades into the glass. The droid blinked and hummed as the arms slowly began to rotate, leaving a smooth seam in the glass.

As the droid did its work Daria pulled her knees up toward her chest, crouching on her hoverboard. She'd only have a few seconds after the glasscutter moved out of the way to get inside if she wanted to prevent her vital organs from being seared by a lightsabre. She'd escaped detection so far but she knew the second she flew through the ruined window he would sense her. If he weren't sleeping, he'd have sensed her already.

Time slowed as the tiny droid clicked and latched onto the glass, its little reverse thrusters protesting under the weight of the pane as it moved to the side. Daria lunged, aware of a flicker of consciousness to her left as she passed through the glass. A door hissed open, muffled by the heated hum of a green lightsabre. The first stroke was aimed at her board and Daria flipped backward. A second door opened and a second lightsabre snapped as Daria landed in a crouch on the worn marble floor. Things were happening too fast. Her weapons were no match for a lightsabre. Her only hope was to get his attention.

Rolling to the right, Daria felt the heat of his sabre as it singed the tips of her hair. That was too close. She tucked her knees to her chin and somersaulted, placing the couch between herself and her two attackers. With practiced ease she sprang to her feet, stretching her right hand toward the light console she could see dimly near the door on the far wall. She flicked her wrist and sent a gentle pulse through the Force, nudging the control up as high as it would go. The unexpected brightness disoriented her attackers. They hesitated. Daria knew she wouldn't get a second chance.

"Please, Master Jinn! It's me, Daria!"

The green sabre stopped and Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn blinked. Daria watched uneasily as his hands flexed around the hilt of his sabre. The man's padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi was breathing heavily, his cropped hair flattened against the left side of his head. He was barely awake as he gazed at her with foggy grey eyes, but the blue eyes of his master were sharp as ever. Daria squirmed.

"Master Jinn, please stop staring. You know it makes me nervous when you do that," Daria whispered. "I feel as if you're looking right through me."

Obi-Wan yawned. "She's right, Master. That look of yours is worse than Master Windu's."

Qui-Gon Jinn rolled his eyes inwardly. He didn't have _a look_ and even if he did, he knew it couldn't be as wrinkled and bitter as Mace's censuring gaze. The man looked positively constipated, a fact Qui-Gon hadn't hesitated to mention to him, much to his fellow master's displeasure. However, he supposed if he did have a look he would be wearing it now. Woken up in the middle of the night to find someone flying through a gaping hole in his window, only to have the lights come on and see Daria Karzul. It was instances such as this that made him remember the words of his former master, condemning his compassion for all living things as his greatest weakness. At the time he'd disagreed. Tonight he had to wonder.

Fifteen years ago he'd been the one to find Daria on Daltarra, in the capital city of Quenin. He'd been sent on a solo mission to rescue a Daltarran diplomat from a particularly cruel group of Hapan pirates led by a man named Scye. Daria's mother, a bounty hunter named Calla, had offered her assistance, the only proviso being that Calla get the bounty on Scye's head when it was over. Unfamiliar with Daltarra Qui-Gon had agreed, but both of them had gotten more than they'd bargained for. Qui-Gon soon discovered that the Daltarran diplomat was actually in league with the pirates and had no desire to be rescued. Knocked unconscious by an explosion the pirates had rigged to cover their retreat, Qui-Gon's last thought had been that he would surely die.

Two days later he'd woken to find himself in Calla's home. The young bounty hunter had dragged him out of the burning structure, choosing to save his life and allowing her mark to escape. Her husband, a botanist studying natural medicine, had tended to him. They were an odd pair, a botanist and a bounty hunter, but in the week he'd stayed with them Qui-Gon had discovered that they complemented one another perfectly. He'd also discovered that their two-year-old daughter Daria was a Force sensitive. He'd spoken with her parents and told them about the Temple. Kindly, but firmly, they had refused him. They had nothing against the Jedi. They just couldn't let someone else raise their little girl. Daria – as had quickly become apparent to Qui-Gon – was the centre of their world.

Qui-Gon hadn't pushed and had left Daltarra as soon as he was well enough to travel. The small family he'd left behind hadn't entered his mind again until Calla arrived at the Temple nearly three months later, clutching Daria to her chest as if someone were going to snatch the girl away. Both were wounded, but Calla had refused treatment, saying she didn't have time. She'd explained that she'd caught and killed Scye about five weeks earlier. Since then there had been several attempts on her life, the last of which had nearly killed Daria. Qui-Gon had listened and then watched, too stunned to protest as Calla wrapped his arms around her unconscious daughter, kissed her forehead, turned, and fled. Qui-Gon had run after her, nearly knocking over a group of padawans in his haste, but by the time he'd reached the street, there was no sign of her.

Resigned, he'd gone back into the Temple, cradling Daria against his chest. He'd stayed in the healing wing while the healers fussed over her. He hadn't wanted her to wake up in a strange place and not see anyone she knew. One of the most difficult moments in his life had come when she'd woken the next afternoon and asked for her mother. Rather than frighten her by telling her that her parents were being hunted, he'd chosen to tell her that her parents had decided to bring her to the Temple to stay with him and become a Jedi. He could still remember the broken expression on her face when she realized what his words meant.

He'd held her for hours, long after she'd cried herself to sleep, until the Council had called for him the next morning. Unfortunately, Daria had become quite accustomed to him being with her. When she woke and found him gone she'd been so distressed that the healers had interrupted his meeting with the Council, actually bringing Daria to him in hopes he would calm her. Once in the Council chambers she'd latched onto him desperately, refusing to let him go when he tried to explain to her that he was meeting with the Council and that he would return. A couple of the Council members had seemed annoyed, but most had been amused to see one of the Jedi's greatest negotiators outdone by a toddler. Eventually, they'd reached a compromise, and Daria had spent the rest of his meeting asleep on his shoulder.

In the days and weeks that followed, Daria had rarely left his side. She'd even slept in his quarters. It had taken months of coaxing for him to be able to leave her in the crèche with the other younglings for even an hour. He wasn't sure who those first separations had been harder on, Daria or him. A year later, she'd finally been comfortable enough with the other Masters to leave his apartment and join the other younglings in the crèche, much to the Council's relief. Qui-Gon's immovable indulgence of Daria's need to be with him had denied the Council of one of their most capable Jedi, but Qui-Gon had resisted any of their attempts to force the child to become more independent. It was only one of the many times he'd defied the Council and he did not regret it, in spite of the fact it spoke to his difficulties regarding attachment.

"Master?"

Qui-Gon started, Daria's quiet voice reminding him instantly of the frightened child that had clung to him years ago. She had the same warm brown eyes, the same long white hair and bronze skin. And she still had him wrapped around her little finger.

She'd grown since he'd last seen her, at least two inches. If she stood straight she'd be nearly as tall as Obi-Wan. She wasn't standing straight though. Her shoulders were curled toward her chest and she kept dropping her left arm slightly, as if it pained her to keep it up. She was wounded. He couldn't help but wonder how badly and by whom, a familiar pang of protective anger prickling at the back of his neck at the thought of her coming to harm. He knew he should be angry with her. He knew there would be trouble with the Council in the morning, but Force help him, he couldn't help but be glad to see her.

Defeated, Qui-Gon flicked off his sabre and set it on the small table beside him, motioning for Daria to come out from behind his couch as he sank onto it. Daria lowered her hands cautiously as Obi-Wan's sabre blade crackled and then vanished.

"You know, I'm not even sure where to begin this time, Daria," Qui Gon confessed, feeling every one of his sixty years as Daria stood timidly in front of him. "Coming through my window in the middle of the night? I could have killed you!"

Daria smiled weakly, holding out the tips of her long hair. They were singed.

"You came close enough for my liking, Master."

Qui-Gon buried his face in his hands, ignoring the squeamish rush of nausea as he realized how close he'd come to hurting the girl.

"You do realize that breaking into the Jedi Temple is a punishable offense, even for a former padawan like yourself," Obi-Wan commented wryly, rubbing roughly against Qui-Gon's worn nerves as the younger man walked past Daria to the kitchenette. His padawan seemed to be taking Daria's intrusion very much in stride. "Several years of service on a penal planet if I'm not mistaken."

"Why, are you going to report me?"

Qui-Gon could hear the taunting smile in Daria's retort from where he was hiding beneath his hands. Force save him.

"No," Obi-Wan assured her, "I just thought I should point that out, in case you'd forgotten."

"Obi-Wan is right, Daria," Qui-Gon interjected, running his fingers through his greying hair in an attempt to keep it out of his face. "You took a great risk doing as you did."

"I did _try_ proper channels," Daria explained, perching on the end of the couch next to Qui-Gon. "I went to the public administrators and asked to speak with you. You weren't on planet so I asked to speak with Master Yoda or Master Windu. They wouldn't allow it."

"Why did you not explain to them that you are a former padawan," Obi-Wan asked as he sat on the arm of the couch beside her. "Surely that would have given you some leverage, would it not Master?"

Qui-Gon glanced at his padawan and nodded absently, preoccupied by the warning he felt humming through the Force.

"That's just it, I tried. I had them search my name in the Archive's database," Daria paused, looking down her hands, "but, uh, I-I'm not there."

Qui-Gon's stiffened.

"What do you mean you're not there, Daria," he demanded sharply. Daria flinched, kneading her left palm. "Daria, this is important."

"I meant just as I said, Master," she whispered, avoiding his eyes. "I'm not in the Jedi Archives anymore. It's as if I was never here. I've been erased."

"Is that even possible, Master?"

Qui-Gon didn't answer his padawan's question. Yes, it was possible, but only for a Jedi. Daria had chosen to leave the Jedi Order, but even so Qui-Gon could think of no reason why she would have been removed from the Archive files. If anything the Jedi would want record of someone like Daria who'd been so far into her training when she left. She might easily fall to the Dark side.

The warning he'd sensed earlier was growing.

"Daria, just what is so important that you were willing to risk life and limb to get inside this temple? You could easily have waited until you saw someone you knew to ask them for help."

Daria scoffed.

"You know as well as I do Master that the Jedi do not often leave the Temple through the public halls. I could have waited for days, weeks even. I-I don't have that kind of time."

"Here, Master, Daria."

Qui-Gon looked up, startled as Obi-Wan put a mug of tea into his open hands. He hadn't even noticed the younger man going back into the kitchen.

Daria took a second mug, sipping at it slowly as Obi-Wan settled on the floor in front of them, his own mug cupped tightly against his chest. Obi-Wan was not a morning person, particularly when morning came very unexpectedly at 3 am.

Qui-Gon sipped at his drink, sensing Daria was not yet ready to speak and that pressing her would not help. He felt a slight shift in the Force, a release of tension followed by a gentle wave of peace that lapped against his own consciousness. Beside him Daria sighed. Part of him thought to reprimand her. She was no longer a Jedi padawan. It was dangerous for her to be using the Force without the proper guidance, but he somehow couldn't deprive her of the comfort he sensed she gained from the reflexive action.

"I came to warn the Jedi." Qui-Gon's mug nearly slipped through his fingers. "Something has happened and the future is changing. The Jedi are in danger."

"As Master Yoda is so fond of saying, the future is always changing Daria," Qui-Gon reminded gently. "What is so different in this instance?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan seconded, the corners of his lips quirking upward, "are the Jedi not always in danger? We are not well liked in certain circles."

Daria shook her head, her expression one of immeasurable weariness as she met Obi-Wan's gaze with a sad smile.

"This is a different kind of danger." Obi-Wan's smile faded. Daria bent over her mug, inhaling the steam before taking a long draught of the strong brew. "Someone is working to eliminate the Order and if action is not taken, they will succeed."

"What makes you so certain, Daria?"

"I, I started receiving visions a few months ago, visions of..." Daria's hands tightened around the mug as her voice trailed off. Qui-Gon reached out and laid his hand on her knee. "At first I dismissed them, until I started hearing word of killings along the Outer Rim." Daria grabbed his hand, her expression strained as she finally met his gaze. "Master, they're being made to look like Jedi killings. They were happening even before I left the Order, but now, now there are movements, movements to have the Order disperse and the Jedi brought to trial."

"Surely a few discontents on the Outer Rim are of little consequence," Obi-Wan observed, setting his mug aside. "The Senate would never allow us to come under such a blatant attack."

"Do not look for help from the Senate," Daria warned darkly. "There is a shadow growing there that could consume us all."

"Daria, I do value your insights," assured Qui-Gon, taking her mug and setting it on the table so he could massage her small hands, "but is it not possible that you are exaggerating the severity of this threat?"

"The last victim was a child of one of the Senators, from the Darpa Sector on Esseles."

"That's Senator Esprix, is it not?"

"Yes," Daria answered, "He's going to move for an investigation against the Order in Senate tomorrow."

"The Senate will not support such a movement, Daria. Esprix would know that. Just where are you getting your information?"

Daria flashed him a canted grin.

"I have my sources, Master, and yes, they are reliable. This source in particular I would trust with my life."

Qui-Gon nodded, letting go of Daria's hands as he stood and began pacing.

"How many years did you say these killings have been going on, Daria?"

"Nearly three years, Master."

"Surely the Jedi must have some record of them," Obi-Wan interjected. "The Council is not blind."

"No, they're not," Daria agreed, her eyes following Qui-Gon's restless movements. "Master, sit. You're worse than a caged Bantha."

Qui-Gon stopped, but didn't sit.

"Daria, I need to know more precisely what you've seen. I don't doubt you, but I cannot go to the Council with vague notions of impending doom for the Order and a motion that may or may not be made in the Senate."

"Esprix _will_ make the motion tomorrow. As you stated, the Senate will be reluctant as of yet to show such bad faith toward the Jedi, but it will be enough to plant a seed of doubt, particularly among those who have always had reservations about the Order. These killings will become more blatant and the purpose of the Jedi will be called into question."

"How?"

Daria smiled at Qui-Gon's sharp interruption.

"You know as well as I do Master that Force visions are not so simple. I know the Jedi will be challenged. I know they will be doubted by enough planets that the Senate will give in and launch an investigation. The findings will," Daria paused, her smooth brow creased by a deep frown, "be less than complimentary. From there things become less clear. I've seen flashes, felt surges of emotion. None of them positive and none of them involve the survival of the Order."

"You mean you've actually seen the end?"

Obi-Wan's question was quiet, anguished, as if he feared Daria's reply.

"Yes."

The silence that followed her statement was weighted. Even the hum of the climate control seemed loud. Obi-Wan swirled the dregs of his tea around in his mug, his face as always, a mask of calm. Daria sat, elbows on her knees, eyes fixed on the spot where Qui-Gon stood, arms crossed over his chest. He wasn't sure what to do. What could he do? Her predictions were so outrageous they seemed impossible, making them perhaps, all the more plausible.

Qui-Gon turned his back on the two young people he knew were waiting for his judgement, the wise and knowing Jedi Master. He certainly didn't feel wise, although his self-deprecation was part of what allowed him to rely so heavily on the Force. His anxiety eased as he slipped into its familiar depths, hoping it might grant him some measure of discernment. He could sense Obi-Wan's agitation and sent a soft nudge of peace across their bond before slipping deeper into the Force.

All there was light, life, breath, the energy of all that had or ever would be surging in one mighty wave of sentience. It soothed his spirit and calmed his conflicted mind. Yet, surging at the edges of its peaceful depths was the same warning he'd felt when Daria first began to speak. It was stronger now, clearer, and Daria stood at its epicentre. It was as though the Force was drawing its concerns and fears around her, cloaking the usual brightness of her Force signature in his mind. He caught wisps of emotions from her. Fear, sorrow, and desperation were chief among them, but the strongest, nearly overwhelming him as he reached for it, was compassion. All of her emotions stemmed from a singular desire to protect the Jedi, a desire that seemed to permeate the Force swirling around her.

"Daria, I want to investigate this further before going to the Council," he stated, easing from the Force as he turned to face her.

"Of course, Master," she agreed eagerly, a surge of relief bringing a smile to her lips. "Thank you, for believing me."

"I make no promises, Daria," he cautioned, "but I believe what you have said should be investigated. Obi-Wan, you should go back to sleep." Qui-Gon sat on the couch and slid his feet into his worn leather boots, foregoing socks and his leather belt as he plucked his long brown robe off the back of the couch. "You'll have to see to Anakin until I return. The Council may send word in the morning about having him tested and if you hear anything from Queen Amidala, be sure to send for me."

"Of course Master," Obi-Wan managed as he yawned. "What about Daria?"

"Daria, will stay here until morning with you and Anakin, but first she's coming with me." Daria stood and opened her mouth to protest, snapping it shut when Qui-Gon fixed her with a flinty glare. "You need to get that shoulder looked at, hm?"

"I'm fine, really Master. A little rest and I'll be fine," she protested earnestly. "It's nothing."

"Then your visit to the healers will be brief, won't it?" Daria scowled at him and Qui-Gon smiled, laying his hand against the small of her back and guiding her through the door. "Come now. Ease an old man's worries."

"Say hello to Master Che, won't you Daria? I'm sure she'll be thrilled to have you back in our midst once more," Obi-Wan taunted, knowing well that Daria had never gotten along with the Temple's stringent head healer.

_To bed Obi-Wan_, Qui-Gon instructed his padawan through their Force bond. _Or I'll tell Master Che that Daria's injury was your doing._

A moment passed before he caught Obi Wan's sheepish reply.

_Sorry, Master. I'm going._

To be continued...

A/N - I accept and welcome reviews in all forms! Thoughts, criticisms, wonderings, declarations, manifestos etc. I write in forum because I want to hear from my readers! Hope to hear from you.


	2. CH 2: Secrets Revealed

Summary: The night Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan return from Tatooine (E1) they are woken by an intruder. The intruder is an old friend and brings a warning to the Jedi: the end of the Order is near. Yet, the threat does not stem from the return of the Sith lords. Killings throughout the galaxies are being made to look like the work of the Jedi, casting doubt upon the Order and creating a widespread movement to end the Order, the Jedi, and the use of the Force. With the intruder's help Qui-Gon and Obi Wan set out to save the Order from destruction, while still protecting the newfound Chosen One, Anakin Skywalker. The pair's greatest trials lie ahead – torture, imprisonment, grief, alliances, destruction, rebellion, separation, leadership, family, and even love. Qui-Gon remains determined to give his life to save the Order. Obi Wan, changed by the trials begins to wonder if they're truly meant to save it. Perhaps...they're meant to do something more. After all, the end is only the beginning.

A/N – Don't own SW.

Chapter 2: Secrets Revealed

Anakin sighed loudly. It felt like he'd been awake forever. Qui-Gon had told him last night that he should wait for Obi-Wan before he got up in the morning, but Anakin was beginning to think the man was never going to wake up. He rolled over on the small pallet Obi-Wan had set up for him to sleep on and stared at the man, imagining that if he stared hard enough he'd wake up. Obi-Wan shifted and Anakin nearly hollered for joy, only to have his hopes dashed as the man pulled the covers up over his head and settled deeper into his sleeping couch. Anakin huffed and kicked off his grey sheets. He was done waiting.

Careful not to brush against Obi-Wan, Anakin crept past the man's sleep couch toward the door on tip-toe. He glanced over his shoulder and when he was sure Obi-Wan was really sleeping he pressed the button to open the door, timing it so that the hiss of the door was muffled by Obi-Wan's heavy breathing. Anakin stretched, yawning as he made his way out into the main room where Qui-Gon had given him a quick snack before sending him to bed the night before. He'd spent most of yesterday at the Queen's apartment with Padme and the rest of the Queen's party from Naboo. He hadn't been summoned to the Jedi Temple until late last night after Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had their meeting with the Council to tell them what was happening on Padme's homeworld. It sounded terrible to Anakin and he wished he could do something to help her. She was so nice. Not like Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan had been grumpy with him all last evening and Anakin wasn't sure why. It's not like he'd ever done anything to him.

Anakin froze. Something had moved over by the couch. It was too dark too see what from so far away. Taking a deep breath Anakin took one step forward. He could just make out the outline of the couch. He waited, holding his breath and watching to see if whatever it was would move again. When it didn't, Anakin took another step forward and then another. As he drew closer he realized suddenly that it was a person. A person was lying on the couch. He wondered at first if maybe Qui-Gon had fallen asleep out here but by the time he'd reached the table in front of the couch he could see it wasn't Qui-Gon. It was a girl.

Anakin didn't recognize her, but figured it must just be another Jedi until he got close enough to see her face. If she was a Jedi, she was the funniest looking Jedi he'd ever seen. Her long white hair was covering the right side of her face, but he could see the other side clearly. There was a tattoo under her eye and a small gem on the side of her nose that Anakin realized was a piercing. She had other piercings too in different places all over her ear. There was a hoop at the top, a little bar kind of thing along the edge in the middle, a small gem on the little part of her ear next to her head, and then half a dozen different little piercings along her lobe. Part of Anakin thought it looked kind of cool, but it made him queasy to think of how much it would hurt to have it done. The one that looked most painful was the thin hoop in the middle of her bottom lip.

"It's not polite to stare, young one."

Anakin jumped. He'd been so preoccupied with her piercings that he hadn't noticed her eyes were open.

"Where's Qui-Gon," he demanded, trying to hide the fact she'd startled him.

"Master Qui-Gon."

Anakin blinked.

"What?"

"As a youngling you should always refer to him as Master."

"Oh, well I'm kinda new at this Jedi stuff."

"I gathered." The woman smiled and swung her legs over the edge of the couch. "Is Obi-Wan still sleeping?"

Anakin nodded as the woman sat up, stretching her arms up over her head.

"Who are you anyway?"

"I'm a friend of Master Jinn and Padawan Kenobi."

"So are you a Jedi?"

The woman's smile widened.

"No, I'm not."

"But aren't Jedi the only ones allowed in the Temple?"

Anakin stepped back as she stood, looking down at him with an amused expression.

"My you ask a lot of questions."

Anakin shrugged.

"I wanna know stuff."

The woman crossed the room and nudged up the lights.

"An admirable trait, but what would you say to getting some breakfast before we continue this little interrogation? I don't know about you, but I'm hungry."

Anakin's stomach growled loudly at the suggestion of food and the woman laughed. It was a nice sound and Anakin decided he liked this lady as he followed her to the small kitchen. She was a lot like Padme. She didn't get impatient or frustrated when he didn't know stuff.

He watched as she opened a few cupboard doors, seeming to know exactly where everything was and decided she was definitely not a Jedi. She was wearing a belted teal tunic and dark violet leggings, instead of the rough tan and white robes he'd seen all of the Jedi wearing. Her long fingers were covered in silver rings, some of them near the tips just below her first knuckle, and she was wearing a bunch of leather bracelets too. She had two more tattoos, one on the back of each hand between her thumb and pointer finger.

"My name is Daria, by the way," the woman called over her shoulder. "What's yours?"

"I'm Anakin, Anakin Skywalker."

"It's nice to meet you, Anakin," Daria said as she set a bowl of cut fruit in front of him. She smiled, her teeth white against her dark burgundy lip stain. "I promise it's safe to eat."

"Oh, right, thanks."

Anakin picked up the spoon and began eating. He glanced at Daria as she set out two mugs and filled them with hot water. The scent of tea leaves wafted up from the steaming mugs. Anakin had always like the smell of tea, but found it hard to understand how something that smelled so good could taste so gross.

The sound of a door opening drew Anakin's attention next and he turned in his seat, watching as Obi-Wan staggered across the common room toward them. Daria laughed and passed one of the mugs of tea to Obi-Wan who grunted and sank into the chair across from Anakin.

"Still not a morning person, hm Obi-Wan?" The man made a face, mumbling incoherently as he took a careful sip of the hot brew. "Lesson number one, Anakin: never try to speak to Obi-Wan before he's had his tea."

Daria winked at Anakin, who grinned over his bowl. Obi-Wan glared at her.

"Some of us like to see the sun before we call it morning, Daria."

The man's cultured tones had returned, although his eyes were still bleary, Anakin took it as a good sign.

"Obi-Wan, where's Qui-Gon, I mean, Master Qui-Gon," Anakin amended quickly at Daria's raised brow. "I want to know when I'm supposed to take this test thing so I can get it over with."

"The Council has not yet set a time for your testing, Anakin. When they have, you will be among the first to know, I promise you." Anakin nodded, pleased to see Obi-Wan seemed a little less grumpy this morning. "As for Master Jinn, he had some business to attend to in the Archives. He asked that we wait here until he returns."

Anakin scowled and poked at his fruit.

"You Jedi sure do a lot of waiting, don't you?"

Daria laughed and Obi-Wan frowned.

"Anakin, a Jedi must be patient," he instructed sternly and Anakin bowed his head, his cheeks hot. "Things do not just happen because we would like for them to."

"Yeah, well I'm not a Jedi yet," Anakin grumbled peevishly as he hopped off his chair. "Just got here last night, how'm I 'sposed to know how a Jedi's sposed to act."

Anakin stomped out of the tiny kitchen and threw himself onto the couch, arms crossed over his chest. He missed his mom. If this was what being a Jedi was like, then he'd rather just go back with her and Watto. Anakin thumped his small fist against the couch, his eyes burning with tears as he thought of his mom on Tatooine all by herself. Why couldn't Qui-Gon have freed her too? What was so special about him that he got to get saved and his mom didn't? He wished he'd never agreed to come with busy Qui-Gon and grouchy Obi-Wan. He'd thought being a Jedi would mean going on adventures. All he'd done so far was sit around. Anakin let out a few choice words in Huttese and slouched down further on the couch.

"Anakin!" Anakin jumped and scrambled up onto his knees, looking over the back of the couch at Daria. "Watch your mouth."

"Sorry." Anakin paused. "Wait, you understood me?"

Daria nodded, smiling slightly as she answered in abnormally polite Huttese.

"_Perfectly. No more of that, got it_?"

Anakin nodded, flopping back down onto the couch with a sigh. He squirmed, sighing again as he turned himself around, putting his feet against the back of the couch so that his head hung down and touched the floor. He could feel his heart beating in his ears and the sound of Daria and Obi-Wan's voices faded as Daria asked about someone named Windu. His tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth as he swung his feet away from the couch, trying to balance on his head. He tipped to the left, catching himself with his hand. He pushed, trying to straighten himself, but instead he leaned too far to the right and fell, his feet coming down around his head.

"Bored, Anakin?"

Anakin blinked, trying to rid himself of the coloured spots in front of his eyes as he looked up at Qui-Gon.

"Maybe a little," he admitted.

"I thought perhaps. Why don't you go get in the fresher and then after Obi-Wan has had a turn, he can give you a tour of the Temple."

Qui-Gon watched, the boy all legs and arms, as Anakin scrambled to his feet.

"Really?" Qui-Gon nodded. "All right!"

Anakin tore out of the common room, smacking the control panel to open the door to Obi-Wan's room, chattering excitedly. Qui-Gon sighed, wishing he could muster the same measure of enthusiasm.

"Would you like some tea, Master?"

Qui-Gon turned, unsurprised to find Daria and Obi-Wan seated together at his table, sipping tea. He'd found them there many mornings during Daria's time at the Temple. It still amazed him. The two were so different. Daria was energetic, outspoken, and prone to challenging authority, while Obi-Wan was calm, reserved, and tended to be the voice of reason in all situations. So different, and yet the two had formed a close friendship. He knew his padawan had missed her when she'd left, had been hurt by her leaving. Qui-Gon sighed, admitting only to himself that he had been hurt as well.

Daria had never been his padawan like Obi-Wan, but even after she had taken her place among the younglings, she'd continued to seek him out. Sometimes she'd be sitting outside his door when he returned from his evening meal. Other times she'd arrive early in the morning, still in her pyjamas, to have breakfast with him. He'd even woken in the middle of the night to find a crechemaster at his door with Daria sobbing in her arms. Obi-Wan's arrival hadn't seemed to faze her. She'd quickly accepted his presence in Qui-Gon's quarters, even going so far as to go looking for Obi-Wan in the practice rooms or the Room of a Thousand Fountains when she knew he was at the Temple. In return, he'd noticed Obi-Wan make a special effort to go and visit her in the crèche.

For all the Jedi warned against attachment, the three of them had formed a type of family and it was good to be together again. In spite of the gravity of the situation, Qui-Gon couldn't help but smile as he sat between them, taking the mug offered to him by Daria.

"What did you find, Master?"

Qui-Gon held up his hand, waiting until he heard the fresher door close to answer his padawan's question.

"As I suspected, I found only one case like Daria described in the Archives. It was from about two and a half years ago. The Council would not sit by idly and let the Jedi be maligned in such a way."

"Master, please, I have confirmed fifteen cases on my own. These killings are happening," Daria insisted. "Perhaps the Council has been occupied by other things and has missed them."

"I had the same thought," Qui-Gon said, tracing the lip of his mug with his thumb, "so when the Senate's public Archives opened this morning, I went there." Qui-Gon's eyes ached from scanning datapads and his stomach felt like lead at the thought of saying what he'd discovered aloud. "The Senate Archives only have record of about three dozen cases, but I was able to contact a number of the planetary and system archives from the Outer Rim. There have been one hundred and thirty-seven confirmed and unsanctioned killings in which the death was believed to have been caused by a Jedi. When I left there half an hour ago, I was still receiving replies. However, if my research thus far is any indication there could be as many as several hundred cases."

"Several hundred," Obi-Wan managed, hands trembling as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Master, how is that even possible?"

"I don't know, but if Daria's visions and my own feelings are any indication, it would be in the best interest of the Jedi to find out."

"Will you speak to the Council, Master," Daria questioned.

Qui-Gon glanced at her, disliking the pallor of her dark skin in the morning light. He wondered how much of a toll these visions were taking on her. She was young, about five years younger than Obi-Wan if his memory served. Force visions were not an easy thing to endure when one was an experienced Master. He'd never experienced them himself, but knew those who had. He would have to speak to Master Yoda about perhaps getting her some help.

"Yes, I am going to bring my findings to the Council. I was to meet with them to discuss Anakin's testing this morning, but I feel this is more important. Can you be ready in a few minutes, Daria? The Council will want to speak with you as well."

Daria nodded, the weariness he'd seen in her briefly the night before returning as she stood.

"Anakin's out of the fresher. Just let me wash my face. I reek like bacta, speeder exhaust, and cantina sweat, but there's only so much I can do in a few minutes."

Qui-Gon smiled, pleased to she was retaining her sense of humour.

"The Council is used to such things, Daria. We Jedi are often very unpleasant creatures upon our return to the Temple."

"When Daria's finished I'll get in the fresher and then take Anakin on his tour," Obi-Wan stated, pre-empting his master's instructions. "But are you sure it's wise for him to become so used to the idea of staying here Master when the Council has not yet approved his training."

Qui-Gon frowned.

"He will be trained, Obi-Wan. He must be trained. He is the Chosen One, I'm sure of it. If the Council disagrees, then I will train him myself."

"Forgive me, Master. I did not mean to question your judgement," Obi-Wan replied contritely. "I'll just go and get ready now."

Qui-Gon nodded dismissively. The Force had a mordant sense of humour. The finding of the Chosen One, Daria's return, the Zabrak that had attacked them on Tatooine, and the death of hundreds being made to look like the work of the Jedi. The only thing missing was the return of the Sith lords. The thought made Qui-Gon uneasy as he remembered the skill of their attacker on Tatooine. Perhaps he shouldn't rule that out.

"Daria, stop fidgeting. You're going to wear a hole in Obi-Wan's robe and he does enough damage to it without your help."

Daria let the brown thread she'd been worrying slip through her fingers and gathered Obi-Wan's long robe around her defensively, trying to ignore the fact that her stomach was twisting into knots. Her head was bowed, her hands tucked in the loose folds of Obi-Wan's robe. Anyone that saw her would assume she _was_ Obi-Wan, as she followed Qui-Gon into the Council turbolift. That was the point.

"You know, Master," Daria remarked as the lift doors shut, "a less trusting person might think that you were ashamed to be seen with me."

"It has nothing to do with the fact that you are currently in the Jedi Temple without the permission or knowledge of the High Council."

"Or that the penalty for such an offense is death," Daria added helpfully, schooling her amused expression when Qui-Gon glared. "Sorry, Master. Just trying to relieve some of the tension."

"Yes, well, try some other way," he commanded tersely. "Someone saw to it that I didn't get much sleep last night and my patience is at its minimum."

"I'll have to speak with Obi-Wan when we get back, tell him to stop dragging you around to the cantinas until all hours."

Qui-Gon chuckled wearily.

"Yes, you do that."

Daria glanced sideways, sharing a small smile with the aging Master before returning her gaze to the front of the turbolift as they neared the peak of the spire. The knots in her stomach were tightening. The last time she'd stood before the Council it had been to inform them of her decision to leave the Jedi. Until this moment the two years since she'd left had seemed like an eternity. Now two years wasn't nearly long enough. She wasn't ready to face the Council again, to have them look at her with pity, censure, and worst of all, disappointment. She'd worked all of her childhood to make the Jedi proud of her, to make Qui-Gon proud. In an instant, everything had changed.

The lift doors opened and Daria bowed her head, fixing her eyes on the larmalstone floor as Qui-Gon approached the two knights that stood guard outside the Chamber of the High Council.

"The Council is expecting you, Master Jinn," the nearest informed them quietly, bowing at the waist as he spoke. "You may proceed."

"I hope they haven't been kept waiting," Qui-Gon replied, drawing Daria forward. "It seems my padawan had some difficulties waking up this morning."

The two knights laughed as the doors to the Council Chambers opened. Daria stopped abruptly, paralyzed. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. She couldn't move. Her legs turned to water and her stomach felt like a lead weight beneath her ribs, pressing against her diaphragm so that she couldn't get enough air. She started to panic until she felt comfort wrap itself around her, holding her fiercely. The pounding of her heart slowed, her trembling hands stilled and the clawing panic that had fastened itself around her chest like a vice relented as she looked up at Qui-Gon.

He said nothing, but sent a nudge of protective assurance through the Force followed closely by a breath of sympathy. Daria sighed and willed herself to let him ease her discomfort. They had never formed a training bond as he had never been her Master, but from the moment they met on her homeworld of Daltarra his consciousness had become a constant presence in the back of her mind. She'd often been able to sense his emotions, even at times, his thoughts. It had led to her telling the Council when he and Obi-Wan were in danger on more than one occasion as a child and it had often allowed him to comfort her when no one else could. She had always treasured their bond and had worked to preserve it even after forming a formal bond with her master. Or at least she had until she'd left the Jedi. That day she'd severed all of her bonds.

However, it seemed that Qui-Gon had kept his bond with her intact. Timidly, Daria reached out and brushed against his mind, offering her thanks.

_Breathe deeply, Daria, and let your fears go,_ he whispered gently in her mind as he locked his hand around her elbow and propelled her through the doors. _Focus on the present._

Daria did as she was told and his hand left her elbow. Qui-Gon took his place at the centre of the room and reflexively Daria followed, standing two feet behind him and to the right as was proper for a padawan. They bowed in unison, Daria careful that her robe stayed in place as she watched Qui-Gon from the shadows of Obi-Wan's hood.

"Where is the boy, Master Jinn?" Daria's insides writhed at the sound of Mace Windu's voice. "I thought we agreed this meeting would be most productive if he was present."

"I am afraid, Master, that I would like to speak to you about another matter entirely, one that has just been brought to my attention. Given the nature of this matter, I feel it should take precedence."

"And what matter would that be?"

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to reply, but shut it quickly at the sound of Master Yoda's hushed laughter.

"Playing a trick on us, Master Jinn is. His padawan, this is not." A ripple of incredulity swelled, the voices of the Council members rising with it, but all was silenced by the sharp rap of Master Yoda's gimer stick. "Forward step, young one. Hide from us, you need not."

The gentleness of the small master's command gave Daria the courage to lift her head, meeting Yoda's kindly gaze as she took one hesitant step forward. Her eyes flicked to Qui-Gon, hoping for an instant he would continue to hide her from the Council, but knowing in her heart it was a false hope. Qui-Gon was not one to coddle, at least not when it came to facing the consequences of one's actions as Daria must now.

Stopping in front of Master Yoda's seat, Daria bowed deeply and then kneeled. A small smile wrinkled his olive features as he reached out and patted the top of her head.

"Long it has been since before this Council you've stood." Daria kept Yoda's gaze as his expression became one of sadness. "Much have you faced. Many hardships. But returned you to us safely, the Force has."

Tears welled in Daria's eyes as the diminutive master spoke, his rasping voice soft. There had been so many moments since she'd left the Jedi that she'd regretted her decision, so many moments when she'd prayed to the Force for one of the Jedi to find her, to recognize her and bring her back to the Temple, back home. As she knelt in front of the Council memories of her days as a youngling when Master Yoda would sneak candies into her robe while the other masters weren't looking flooded her mind. Memories of friends, memories of Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, memories of sparring practices and endless lectures, memories of falling asleep in the crechemaster's arms, memories of her master's stern instructions and his pride when she exceeded his expectations. She couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze, knowing he would not look at her with such pride now.

"Be ashamed you should not," Yoda admonished gently, leaning forward and drawing Daria's hood back from her face, "Daria Karzul."

Daria flinched at the sudden rupture of invectives from the Councillors as they realized who she was. However, it was the quietest of the voices that cut the deepest with only a single anguished word.

"Padawan."

The word left Mace Windu's lips without his consent, more a breath than a spoken thought. Two years. Two years since she'd left the Jedi, since she'd left the Temple, since she'd left him. It was difficult to see her so changed. Her dark skin was tinged grey in a way that bothered him, her once slender frame was emaciated, her once bright eyes dim. Instead of meeting his gaze with confident deference, her eyes were fixed on a spot on the floor just in front of Yoda's chair. She flinched at each hard word from the councillors. Two years ago such insults would have made her laugh. Where he'd once seen eagerness, there was weariness, where there had been peace, he saw anxiety, where there had been joy he saw suffering and pain.

As he studied the young woman in front of him, he found it hard to reconcile her with the girl that he'd taken as his padawan when she was eleven. The change wounded him deeply. He'd thought he'd dealt with her departure. He'd thought he'd released all his concern, his anger, his sorrow, and his attachment into the Force. He'd thought he'd left Daria Karzul in the past where she belonged, but it was very obvious to him now that he'd been wrong.

Around him his fellow councillors voiced their protests, words like traitor pricking at Mace's temper and he struggled to keep his irritation to himself as he was inundated with the long-buried emotions the return of his former padawan had released. Relief to see her alive, concern for her obvious ill health, anger that she'd left him, jealousy that she'd come to Qui-Gon and not him, sorrow for her pain, and guilt for his own failure in allowing her to leave. None of them were emotions he savoured as they fought for dominance within him, but he found he could not release them.

"Masters, please," Qui-Gon bellowed, pausing a moment to wait for the silence he expected his words to bring before continuing. "I apologize for the deception, but I fear it was necessary. Daria's presence is key to understanding the matter I wish to discuss with you."

"She is a traitor to the Order," snarled Master Saesee Tiin. "What could you possibly hope to gain by bringing her here? The Jedi have no use for the likes of her."

Mace's jaw tightened. Master Tiin's devotion to the Order was absolute, allowing for no deviation from the approved path. Usually, Mace found himself agreeing with the man, at least to some degree, but his heart would not allow him to view Daria as a traitor and a threat to the Order.

"Master Tiin is right, Qui-Gon," Master Plo Koon stated more calmly. "This girl is not a Jedi. She should not have been allowed into this Temple without our knowledge, no matter the circumstance."

"Our rules are put in place for a reason," added Master Mundi, nodding in agreement as he looked to the Kel Dorian Master across from him. "However, I would like to know what was of such great concern to Master Jinn that he blatantly disregarded these rules."

"As would I," seconded Depa Bilaba.

"I have no interest in the words of a traitor," Master Tiin growled, his leathered features squeezed in an expression of fury as he rose from his chair. "I will listen to no more of this."

"Sit down, Master Tiin," commanded Depa Bilaba, her brown eyes hard as she glared at her fellow council member. "Your opinion has been heard and will be taken under advisement. However, it is not the mandate of this council to convict anyone – be they Jedi or civilian – without proof."

Mace Windu felt a small surge of pride as he watched the stubborn Iktotchi master Saesee Tiin accede to his former padawan Depa Bilaba, re-taking his seat with no small amount of grumbling. Mace could not have asked for a more competent padawan than Depa. She had exceeded his expectations at every turn and in doing so had earned herself a place on the High Council at an unheard of age. She was hailed as one of the most enlightened Jedi of the century.

Still, she was not usually so outspoken in council. Mace frowned, wondering if she sensed his discomfort, catching her discreet glance in his direction as Master Tiin took his seat. She had always been protective of him.

"Conviction of the innocent is not our mandate, Master Bilaba, but the fact that Daria Karzul willingly left the Order is not something we can overlook," Master Koon reminded, acknowledging the unspoken concern of every master in the room directly for the first time. "Few have left our Order willingly in our long history and even fewer have left without turning to the Dark side. We cannot ignore this."

"Enough!" Mace flinched at the force of the string of expletives that followed Master Agen Kolar's bark and turned his eyes toward the scowling Zabrak. "Your incessant yammering is giving me a headache. Daria's presence in the Temple does present certain problems. I am not denying this. However, my greatest concern at this moment is what matter was of such import that both Daria and Master Jinn were willing to risk grave punishment to bring her before us in secret. Or perhaps I am the only one who has thought so far." The Council was silent. Master Kolar continued. "Stop worrying so much about the reputation of the Order. We Jedi are not here to meet the approval of others, but to serve the Force, and the Force tells me that Daria's presence here has a purpose. If you'd stop bickering over semantics, perhaps you would hear it as well."

"Master Jinn," prompted Master Mundi, "perhaps you would begin by explaining the matter that has brought you both before us this morning."

Mace watched Qui-Gon's expression carefully. The man was one of the few Jedi that could spar with him as an equal and as such they sparred frequently. He had learned to read the man's expressions well, the subtle changes in his features that signalled frustration, unease, or confidence. What he found bothered him. If Mace were to guess, he would say Qui-Gon's expression was one of grief. Mace began to worry. He had not seen such an expression on Qui-Gon's face since the death of Xanatos. Whatever had brought Daria here, it was not good.

"Early this morning Daria came to me and my padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi." Mace's eyes flicked to his former padawan where she knelt in front of Yoda, her head still bowed. "She has been receiving visions from the Force, visions of a threat to the Jedi. These visions caused her such concern that she came here, asking that I bring the matter to you."

"The visions of a half-trained child hardly warrant the attention of this Council, Master Jinn," Master Tiin interrupted. "Furthermore, if I recall, Ms. Karzul's skill with the Force is limited at best."

Qui-Gon frowned at the thinly veiled insult.

"I would not trouble the Council without substantiating her contentions, Master," Qui-Gon replied, his jaw tight. "I investigated the matter myself and have found evidence that corroborates the content of Daria's visions."

"Just what is the subject of these visions, Master Jinn," questioned Depa Bilaba, her expression thoughtful. "What has she seen that is of such concern to you?"

"Daria has seen – and I was able to verify – a number of killings along the Outer Rim that are being made to look like the work of the Jedi. Just this morning I was able to confirm more than a hundred and I was still receiving replies when I left the Senate archives for this meeting. Daria's visions suggest that these killings will allow those who have reservations regarding the integrity of the Jedi to defame the Order, compelling us to end our public service of the Force."

"While I value your insight, Master Jinn, I would like to hear from Daria," Master Adi Gallia said quietly, speaking for the first time since the meeting began. Qui-Gon nodded and stepped back. "Daria? Would you please tell us what you have seen?"

"I have seen the end of the Jedi Order." Mace felt a tremor in the Force as space-like silence fell over the Council. "As Master Jinn was able to confirm, there have been a number of killings along the Outer Rim that have been made to look like the work of the Jedi. Animosity has given birth to hate and distrust. There are groups, powerful groups that are beginning to move against the Order."

"The underworld's best and brightest, I would presume," commented Master Tiin sardonically.

"No, they're not," Daria corrected, receiving an odious glare from the Iktotchi master. "They are politicians, intellectuals, and businessmen. The latest victim was the son of Senator Esprix of Esseles. He will bring forward a motion in the Senate today to launch an investigation of the Jedi Order."

"The Senate will protect us," Mace stated slowly, forcing himself to make eye contact with his former padawan. "They have ever been our ally. They will not allow us to be maligned without cause, nor will they betray us."

For the first time since she'd entered the Council chambers Daria met his gaze and Mace felt his heart constrict painfully behind his ribs.

"The threat comes to you from the Senate, Master. They will not shelter you for long. These killings will continue. They will become more violent and more visible until everyone feels threatened by the Jedi and the existence of your order. Do you truly believe that the Senate will protect you then?"

Daria spoke with such grave certainty that Mace found he could not answer her. The relationship of the Jedi and the Senate had been good in recent years, but they had always maintained a degree of separation. It was what permitted the Jedi to operate as independent and objective negotiators. He and a number of others had questioned in recent years if their relationship with the Senate was becoming too close, but would such a bond survive the threat of a galactic rebellion? No. No, it would not. He knew in his heart that if the Jedi were to become outlaws, the Senate would do all it could to separate itself from the Jedi Order.

"You're operating under the assumption the Senate's findings will not be favourable to the Jedi, Daria," Master Gallia pointed out. "Do you truly have so little faith in the integrity of our order that you don't believe we could withstand such an investigation?"

"If the purpose of these killings is to eliminate the Jedi Order, I am confident that whoever has committed them will see to it that they are linked to your order, Master. It would be foolish to commit them otherwise."

Master Gallia nodded, frowning.

"Then you have foreseen the outcome of this investigation?"

"Yes, Master Gallia, I have."

"Always changing, the future is. This future you have seen, certain it is not."

Yoda's admonitions regarding the perpetual motion of the future were well-known among the Jedi. Nearly every crecheling could repeat them from memory. Yet, the truth of his words remained unchanged. The future was always in motion and not even the most gifted of force-users could be certain of the futures they saw. Daria's visions were no different.

"I have not forgotten your lessons, Master Yoda," Daria granted with a mournful smile. "Had I believed there was no hope for the Jedi, I would not have travelled across a dozen systems to stand before you." Daria's voice cracked and Mace was startled to see her eyes gleaming with unshed tears. "I do not mean to seem so hopeless. Nor do I mean to belittle the greatness of your order, Masters. But, I have seen the end of the Jedi too many times and in too many ways to believe it can be avoided. The future is always changing, yes, but nothing can last forever. My only hope now is for the survival of the Jedi themselves, should the Order be forced to disperse."

Yoda hummed sadly, drawing his short legs toward his chest as he rested his chin on his gimer stick.

"The truth, you speak, young one." Yoda chortled, but his laughter held no humour as studied Daria's mournful expression. "When become so wise, did you, hm? Too young, you are for such insights. Made old Jedi masters feel like crechlings, you have."

"There is more, I'm afraid," Qui-Gon offered quietly, his expression grave. Mace struggled to fathom what more there could be. "Whoever is orchestrating these attacks tried to prevent Daria from warning us. They have erased her from our records, I would guess in hopes of cutting off her access to the Council."

"Then whoever is trying to bring an end to the Jedi has been helped by someone within our own order," Mace concluded.

"More than that." Mace turned to Depa, watching the young woman as she spoke, her brown eyes fixed on Daria. "They knew that Daria would be the one to warn us."

"How is that possible, Daria," Qui-Gon questioned, turning the young woman toward him with a brush of his hand against her shoulder. "How could someone have known you would come to us? Did you speak to anyone else about your visions?"

"No, Master, no one except you and Obi-Wan. But I think that they knew I would come for another reason." The tears gathered in the corners of Daria's eyes spilled out onto her cheeks. "They killed my mother." Mace's heart wrenched. His hand itched to reach out and comfort his former padawan, but he knew it was no longer his place. "Three months ago I found my parents. Two weeks later my mother was killed by a hooded figure wielding a blue light sabre in the local market." Daria's tears dripped onto the floor. "I was with her and gave chase, but the man was a skilled force-user and I had no lightsabre."

"If a force-user he was, recognize the Force in you easily, he could," observed Master Yoda. "Fear you would tell us of him, he might."

The Council fell into silence, the only sound Daria's laboured breaths as she fought to stifle her tears. Mace could feel her agony ripping through the Force. It weighed against him heavily as he searched the Force, seeking guidance. He found none. The Force was nothing but unrestrained turbulence. In all his years as a force-user he had never seen such unease in the Force. The Force was tranquility, the placid depths of its sentience soothing. This alarm undulating across its surface was unnerving to him, so much so that he wondered why he had not sensed it before now. How had the entire Jedi Council missed it? And why had it been revealed so plainly to this young girl, this former padawan whose fate was no longer bound to that of the Jedi Order.

"Much to meditate on, you have given us, Daria," Master Yoda spoke, his quiet words easing through the silence. "Speak again of this, we will."

"And what of her blatant disregard for our ways and our statutes? She is still an outsider and a traitor to this Order. That cannot be ignored," snapped Master Tiin.

Mace's last tendril of patience withered and broke with a snap.

"Silence!" Mace's stentorian bark cracked loudly in the vaulted chamber. "I will hear no more of your malicious malcontent, Master Tiin. Such rash judgement and clear hatred make me question the wisdom of you holding a seat on this Council. If Daria's words and Master Jinn's research prove true then we have much greater concerns than the recklessness of a former padawan and a wayward master. The very existence of everything we have strived to foster and protect may well be in jeopardy."

"I agree, but what is to be done with Daria. Sending her back to her resident system puts her in danger from her mother's assassin. Yet, if there is a spy within our Order, letting her stay here among the Jedi could be equally perilous," reasoned Master Mundi.

"I advise we let her remain here, in the Temple," suggested Master Gallia. "Give her permission to come and go as she pleases, until we are able to discern the Force's leading in this matter. This spy surely would not be so foolish as to try and kill her here in the Temple. If they have stayed hidden this long, they would not want to risk the exposure her death would bring." The Councillors agreed. That matter settled, Master Gallia continued. "In the meantime, I will go and speak with some of my contacts in the Senate. If Senator Esprix is going to move for an investigation, we should be aware of its contents and the Senate's response to it."

"Thank you for coming to us, Daria," Master Yarael Poof said with a smile, "I do not think anyone has said so since your arrival, but you have been missed."

Daria smiled at the Quermain master, bowing in acknowledgement.

"Thank you, Master Poof. I am glad to be of help."

"You are dismissed, Daria," Depa commanded gently. "We would like to speak with Master Jinn privately for a few moments."

Daria bowed lowly.

"Of course, Masters, but if I might make a brief request of Master Fisto first?" Depa nodded and Daria turned to the Nautolan Master. Kit Fisto blinked, clearly startled by being directly addressed. "Master Fisto, I wondered if I might have an hour of your time at some point during my stay. I have a few questions for you regarding the use of the Force and natural elements."

The green Nautolan grinned, ever-eager to teach.

"Of course, Daria. I shall send a com message to Master Jinn's quarters when I—

"Daria," Master Koon interrupted, "You are no longer a Jedi. Although we are permitting you to stay in this temple you must not present yourself to anyone as a Jedi. Nor can we condone your use of the Force."

Daria's expression hardened into one much more familiar to Mace than the anguish and timidity she had displayed throughout her appearance before the Council. He smiled inwardly, knowing before the words left her lips that they would be words of defiance. He did not envy Master Koon. Daria's insubordination was never without cause. In fact, much like Qui-Gon, her defiance was at times difficult to condemn because at its root was truth, often uncomfortable truths for the Jedi to acknowledge, but truth all the same.

"With all due respect, Master, access to the Force is something that neither this council nor the Jedi Order has the power to grant or deny me."

Mace watched as Daria bowed respectfully and then strode out of the room. Sometimes he couldn't help but envy her defiance. It was a quality he'd often envied in Qui-Gon as well. Although he himself was not opposed to walking the line, he rarely crossed it, and when he did, he always regretted it. Qui-Gon and Daria neither one ever seemed to regret it. He had at times wondered if their defiance was really defiance at all, if perhaps their words and actions were guided by the Force. It was a question he'd often considered during his time as Daria's master, a question that had plagued him when she'd left the Order, and one he'd tried valiantly to ignore.

However, with the matter that now lay before council, it was a question he could ignore no longer. Were Daria's actions driven by some exceptional glimpse of insight provided by the Force? Or were they driven by emotion and darkness? Only the Force knew and unfortunately for Mace it was not sharing its insights regarding Daria with him.

"Daria!" Obi-Wan turned from his tea, startled by Anakin's cry as the boy bounded across the common room. "Daria, where have you been all day? Obi-Wan took me all around the Temple and then I had my test with the Council – are they ever serious! I kept looking for you, but I guess you were busy."

Daria smiled indulgently at Anakin as the door to Qui-Gon's quarters hissed shut behind her.

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to come and join you and Obi-Wan, Anakin, but I had business with the Council this morning and other matters to tend to this afternoon. I'll make you a deal though. You let me have half an hour in the 'fresher, and you can tell me all about your day while I have a cup of tea. All right?"

Anakin beamed as Daria ruffled his sandy hair.

"Deal!"

"I put your rucksack in my room by the foot of my bed, Daria," Obi-Wan called, yawning as he crossed the common room at a much slower pace than Anakin. "There's a spare towel in my bottom drawer. You're welcome to it."

Daria smiled and squeezed his shoulder fondly.

"I think Anakin has worn you out, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan returned her smile briefly, covering his mouth as he yawned again.

"If I had half of his energy," he managed.

"You wouldn't have such difficulties keeping Master Jinn out of trouble," Daria finished for him.

Obi-Wan chuckled.

"One of the many advantages, I'm sure." Obi-Wan laid his hand on Anakin's shoulder, his tone reflexively stiffer as he spoke to the boy. "Come, Anakin. You had best finish your supper before it goes cold."

Anakin dutifully followed him back to the table, glancing over his shoulder at Daria as she carried her bag to the 'fresher, closing the door behind her. The boy hopped up onto his seat and continued shovelling his food into his mouth as he had been before Daria arrived. Anakin's own share of supper had disappeared so quickly that Obi-Wan had given the boy most of his and it seemed that would soon be gone as well. He wondered where it was all going, but supposed having lived the life of the slave the boy had a good number of meals to make up for.

The plate was soon empty and for the first time since Obi-Wan had met the boy, Anakin looked uncertain. He sat, his legs swinging restlessly against his seat, pressing his pointer fingers into a tented peak. Obi-Wan frowned, puzzled when the boy glanced at him, indecision flashing in his blue eyes.

"Uh, thanks for supper, Obi-Wan," the boy blurted, his eyes fixed on his fingers, "And for showing me around the Temple. I know you don't really like me a whole lot, so thanks."

Obi-Wan's heart twisted and he ran his hand over his face, feeling the unpleasant heat of guilt spreading across his shoulders and up his neck. He absently registered the door to the 'fresher opening and his own door closing as he looked at the small boy across from him. It wasn't that he disliked the boy. In fact, he didn't know the boy well enough to say whether he liked him.

There was something about him though, some warning in the Force that made Obi-Wan uneasy. Clearly the Council had sensed it as well. They were less than eager to see the boy trained and had tested him only at Qui-Gon's insistence. However, what bothered Obi-Wan the most was his master's obstinacy regarding the boy. His master seemed to be ignoring the warnings both he and the Council members were giving him.

Anakin was too old, he was too attached to things outside the Jedi Temple, and he was too free with his emotions. His master should be able to see such flaws, but his usual discernment seemed to have evaporated in the wake of his knowledge that Anakin could be the Chosen One. But as Yoda had said, the fact that the boy was the Chosen One didn't mean he should be trained.

On the other hand, the conflicts regarding Anakin's presence in the Jedi Temple were hardly the boy's fault. The boy had not asked Qui-Gon to stop listening to Obi-Wan, nor had he asked him to ignore Obi-Wan in favour of himself. The boy had done nothing against him. Obi-Wan sighed.

"I-it's not that I don't like you, Anakin," Obi-Wan began slowly, his usual eloquence failing him. "I, I...it's just that your presence here has caused certain difficulties between Master Qui-Gon and myself and I guess that has made me wary of you. I do not like fighting with my master. It is," Obi-Wan paused, struggling to find the right word, "unsettling. That is no fault of yours and I apologize if I made it seem so. I shall try to do better in the future."

Anakin peered up at him from beneath his blonde fringe and nodded slowly.

"Well, then I'm sorry I'm making you and Master Jinn mad."

Obi-Wan shook his head.

"It's not your fault, Anakin. It's nothing you've done or haven't done. It was Master Jinn's decision to bring you here." He smiled, trying to blunt his usual terseness with the boy. "Now, why don't you go and grab the datapad off my desk and we'll start working a bit on reading Basic. Master Jinn commed me earlier and suggested it might be wise, especially if you're going to start classes soon."

Anakin grinned and Obi-Wan found he just didn't have it in him to resent the boy as he ran to get the datapad, calling to Obi-Wan over his shoulder.

"I'll be back in just a second."

It was only when he heard Anakin tap the keypad for the door to his quarters that Obi-Wan registered the fact that Daria had entered them only moments earlier after leaving the fresher.

"Anakin, wait!" Obi-Wan's tea sloshed onto the table as he leapt out of his chair, bounding after the boy in spite of the fact he knew he would be too late. "Don't open the—

Obi-Wan's words stuck in his throat and his mouth went dry. Daria stood in the centre of his room, bent at the waist, squeezing the last of the water from her hair with a towel as she turned to Anakin with a raised brow.

"It is customary to knock before entering, is it not, padawan?"

Obi-Wan closed his open mouth, wetting his lips with his tongue, and clearing his throat awkwardly in hopes of regaining his capacity for speech. Daria glanced at him.

"I-I'm sorry, Daria, it's my fault. I forgot you were in here and I sent him after a datapad."

Daria flashed him a brilliant smile, her dark eyes warm as she straightened and hung the towel over the back of the chair beside her.

"Not to worry, Obi-Wan. Luckily I was decent."

Obi-Wan could only nod, his cheeks tinged with red. Daria's definition of decent left far too little to the imagination for his comfort, being only an oversized shirt that barely reached her thighs. He felt a surge of heat rush to his stomach. It wasn't a sensation unfamiliar to him, but it was very inappropriate as a Jedi. That Daria had never stirred such immodest thoughts and longings in him before only magnified his discomfort. If his master ever even suspected he'd had such thoughts about her, Obi-Wan would not live long enough to be forgiven. He cleared his throat again.

"Anakin, let's leave Daria to finish dressing, shall we?"

Obi-Wan turned to leave, but Anakin hadn't moved. He stood immobile, his eyes fixed on Daria and Obi-Wan wondered if this was the first time the boy had truly seen a woman before. If it was, he prayed it would be his master and not him that would be explaining the fairer sex to the boy. Obi-Wan laid his hand on Anakin's shoulder.

"Anakin, we should go."

Obi-Wan gently tried to steer the boy toward the door, but the boy would not be moved. Finally, he spoke and his words were so quiet, so agonized, that Obi-Wan shivered.

"You're a slave."

Obi-Wan's temper flared and he opened his mouth to offer an indignant rebuttal until he saw where the boy was pointing. There was a dark brand on Daria's thigh, just below the hem of her shirt. The letters were strange and Obi-Wan couldn't read them, but he knew a slavers brand when he saw it. His knees felt weak and he felt a strange desire to reach out and touch it, as if he could rub it away. He looked to Daria, but she wasn't looking at him, she was looking at Anakin. Obi-Wan pleaded silently for her to look at him, for her to meet his eyes and assure him that the mark wasn't what Anakin thought it was, what Obi-Wan knew it was.

Daria crouched, absently pushing Anakin's bangs from his eyes as she spoke.

"What would make you think that, Anakin?"

Anakin's voice remained quiet as he spoke, his face pale.

"You've got a slaver's brand."

Obi-Wan watched the emotions playing across Daria's face. Anger, fear, pain, shame, sorrow, her eyes gleamed with them, swirling and shifting with each new emotion.

"More than one, actually," Daria finally replied and Obi-Wan sat hard on the edge of his bed, his knees finally giving out. "But how is it that a young boy such as yourself knows of slavers brands?"

"I was a slave on Tatooine until Master Jinn took me away. M-my mum still is."

Obi-Wan watched numbly as the boys eyes filled with tears. Daria wiped them away with the edge of her damp towel.

"I'm sorry to hear that Anakin. You must be very glad that Master Jinn found you."

Anakin nodded.

"I am, but I wish, I wish my Mum could have come too."

Daria smiled.

"I bet you do. It's not easy to leave the people we love behind, even though sometimes it's for the best." Daria shifted to the balls of her feet and pushed her sleeve up. "See this Anakin?"

The boy sniffed, swiping at his face as he stepped closer to Daria, squinting at the long mark on her forearm.

"It's different than the other one."

Daria nodded and swivelled so that her back was to Anakin, pulling her long hair away from her neck.

"Pull down the collar of my shirt, Anakin."

Obi-Wan found himself leaning over the boy, the contents of his stomach roiling mightily at the sight of yet another black mark and a long jagged scar.

"How come you've got three of them?"

"One for each time I was sold. Each slaver has his own brand."

"And the scar," Anakin asked, timidly running his small fingers along the torn line of flesh.

"That's from removing the neuro-chip they used to keep track of me." Daria turned back to Anakin, her eyes sad as tears leaked from the boy's eyes. She brushed them away with her thumb. "I got away three times, Anakin. There's still hope for your mum. I promise."

Anakin nodded, his tears falling faster as his breath hitched over a hiccupping sob. Daria shushed him and pulled the boy into her arms, guiding his head so that it rested against her shoulder as Anakin sobbed. Daria stroked his hair patiently as the cries grew louder and then faded to sniffles. Obi-Wan sat, watching every movement, his mind reeling with images of Daria being sold like some creature, being held in a prison, being made to work or worse, being used for her master's pleasure. Tears stung his eyes as he struggled, his anger nearly overwhelming his grief as he watched his friend comfort the young boy beside him.

Slowly Daria began to rock back and forth, her hand still smoothing Anakin's hair as she began to whisper in his ear, instructing him lovingly to go to sleep. Obi-Wan smiled when he sensed her reach out into the Force and ease its suggestive heaviness into Anakin's mind. Soon the boy was asleep, his arms wrapped tightly around Daria's neck as she continued to rock him, back and forth, back and forth. The rhythm of her movements and her soft assurances seemed to sooth Obi-Wan as much as Anakin and he found himself giving in to the drowsiness and peace weighing against him.

He forced his eyes open with a start and glared at Daria, realizing abruptly that she'd been using the Force against him as well. She only looked at him with sad eyes, reaching out to squeeze his knee reassuringly as she continued to rock Anakin. Obi-Wan held her gaze for a long time, searching the depths of her brown eyes as if he might find the answers he was looking for there. Was she ok? How long had she been a slave? Had they hurt her? How had she managed to escape three times? What had been the punishment when she was found? It was too much. He looked away.

A brush against his knee brought him back. She smiled at him, shifting the sleeping child draped awkwardly over her lap.

"Obi-Wan, could you?"

Obi-Wan nodded, standing quickly but warily, not fully trusting his legs as he bent and gently took Anakin from Daria's arms. The boy whimpered in protest but was easily soothed by Daria as his friend reached out through the Force and nudged Anakin reassuringly. Obi-Wan knelt and laid his young charge on the small mat that had been brought for him to sleep on, covering him in blankets and finding for the first time since the boy's arrival, he wanted to comfort him. The impulse was pushed to the back of his mind when Daria tried to stand and stumbled, her knees buckling. Obi-Wan was at her side in an instant and was surprised to find her laughing.

"My legs are numb. He may be small, but he's quite heavy."

Obi-Wan offered her a small smile, although he felt no desire to smile as he locked his arm around her waist and helped her out into the hallway. Her steps grew steadier as they went and she stood on her own as the door hissed shut behind them. Daria smiled.

"Thanks, Obi-Wan. I'll go get changed in Qui-Gon's room."

Obi-Wan nodded, turning toward the common room, and ran straight into his master. He staggered backward and looked up at his master, his stomach flipping as the man's eyes flicked pointedly from Obi-Wan to the room Daria had just entered. Obi-Wan sighed and led the way into the common room.

"Don't look at me like that, Master. Nothing happened." Qui-Gon raised a brow doubtfully. "Well, nothing like you're thinking."

"Then prey, do enlighten me, my padawan. What exactly happened to place you in such a," the man paused and Obi-Wan was almost certain there was a hint of laughter when he continued, "delicate position."

Obi-Wan frowned sourly and begrudgingly began his explanation, starting with Anakin going to fetch the datapad and ending with the fact that the boy was now sleeping peacefully. It was the revelations in between that were most difficult for both he and his master. His master had pressed him sharply for answers regarding Daria's enslavement and Obi-Wan had dismally replied that she'd given no details, beyond the fact that she had been a slave three times. He could feel his master's anguish and might have helped him in releasing it into the Force if he hadn't been so bogged down his own emotional quagmire.

"I gather from the torrential amount of angst that you two are pumping into the Force that Obi-Wan informed you of my experiences as a commodity."

Obi-Wan lifted his head slowly, jaw clenched, hands fisted against his thighs as he met Daria's gaze. How could she be so cavalier?

"Yes, Daria, Obi-Wan told me, although I do wish you had told me yourself. Why, why did you not come to me? Why did you not seek help?"

Daria's smile faded.

"The resources of a slave are minimal at best, Master and I was a long way from the Jedi Temple. Even if I'd wanted to, I couldn't have reached you here."

Obi-Wan watched as his master reached for Daria's hand, drawing her closer. He turned her wrist so that he could see the mark on the underside of her arm and with a quick flick of his hand slid the hem of her shorts up so that he could see the mark on her leg. Obi-Wan flinched at the force of his master's anger and grief as it tore through their bond. He'd never felt him so upset before. Daria knelt, squeezing Qui-Gon's hand and taking one of Obi-Wan's she uncurled his fingers and slid her hand into his.

"Master, Obi-Wan, I am fine, I promise." She paused, looking each of them in the eye before she continued. "Unfortunately, being bought and sold is not the most unpleasant of my experiences since leaving the Temple. However, I promise if the two of you don't give up the guilt you're latching on to as if tomorrow's not coming, I will knock both of you senseless. I need a good night's rest and I can't very well get it with the two of you waging a guilt war in the next rooms."

Obi-Wan knew her comment was meant to ease his pain and that of his master but it was utterly insufficient. For Daria's sake he managed a wobbly smile and got to his feet, mumbling something about sleeping before leaving the room.

Once in the hallway he stopped, bracing his head against the wall, his fists held against his ears as tears burned their way past his lids. He wanted so much to believe this was all a nightmare, but Daria's humming force signature in the next room told him he was very much, and very unfortunately, wide awake.

He felt his master's presence draw nearer, realizing belatedly that the light in the common room had gone out as his master's large hand squeezed his shoulder.

"I-I always wondered...what was happening to her after she left," Obi-Wan managed, "but Master, I n-never, never imagined that, that..."

Obi-Wan's quiet sobs made speaking impossible and for the first time in years he cried in front of his master. They stood, unmoving for far longer than Obi-Wan would have liked as he struggled to compose himself.

"I-I hate thinking of her as a slave."

At the edge of his vision Obi-Wan saw the shadowed figure of his master nod.

"As do I, padawan, as do I." His master let go of his shoulder and Obi-Wan sensed the man moving down the corridor toward his room. When he spoke again, his voice was so quiet, Obi-Wan thought at first he was imagining things. But he wasn't. "What I hate thinking of most though, is what else she must have experienced for slavery not to be her most unpleasant incident since leaving the Temple."

Obi-Wan's tears fell anew, but he was too tired to sob. His body ached and he felt as though he'd gone a dozen rounds with Master Windu and lost every one. He was tired, he was sore, but what hurt the most was his heart as he glanced back out into the common room to the couch where he knew Daria was sleeping. He touched his fingers to the pad in front of him and the door slid open. Obi-Wan lingered in the doorway, feeling as though he should say something to her, something to comfort her somehow, anything really. He settled for,

"Good night, Daria."

He wasn't expecting the gentle nudge of reassurance through the Force, nor the reply that followed.

"Good night, Obi-Wan."

To be continued...


	3. CH 3: Conversations Had and Questions

Summary: The night Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan return from Tatooine (E1) they are woken by an intruder. The intruder is an old friend and brings a warning to the Jedi: the end of the Order is near. Yet, the threat does not stem from the return of the Sith lords. Killings throughout the galaxies are being made to look like the work of the Jedi, casting doubt upon the Order and creating a widespread movement to end the Order, the Jedi, and the use of the Force. With the intruder's help Qui-Gon and Obi Wan set out to save the Order from destruction, while still protecting the newfound Chosen One, Anakin Skywalker. The pair's greatest trials lie ahead – torture, imprisonment, grief, alliances, destruction, rebellion, separation, leadership, family, and even love. Qui-Gon remains determined to give his life to save the Order. Obi Wan, changed by the trials begins to wonder if they're truly meant to save it. Perhaps...they're meant to do something more. After all, the end is only the beginning.

A/N – Don't own SW.

Chapter 3: Conversations Had and Questions Unanswered.

Daria glanced at the doors to Qui-Gon and Obi Wan's quarters again, reaching out briefly with the Force to assure herself they were still sleeping as she lifted the shirt she'd worn to sleep over her head. Sparing no time to grimace at the fresh scar that drew a jagged line up her sternum Daria slipped a burgundy dress over her head, tugging at the hem that fell just below her knees to straighten the form-fitted bodice. She reached into her bag and drew out a braided leather belt, cinching it just above her hips where the dress flared so that it swirled around her thighs when she moved.

Dresses were just one more item on the long list of indulgences she had discovered she enjoyed since taking leave of the Jedi. Not that the Jedi forbid wearing dresses, Daria simply found them inefficient for combat. She wasn't interested in the entire galaxy getting a look at her backside when executing a force-jump or a back flip.

Daria slid her feet into her fitted leather boots with ease, tightening the laces that tied discreetly at the top a couple of inches above her knees. She kicked her rucksack under the edge of the couch, trusting that even if they found it Obi Wan and Qui-Gon would not look inside. Worried her anxiety would soon rouse Qui-Gon Daria hurriedly grabbed her hoverboard and cloak from the far corner of the room and slipped out into the corridor. The hallway outside was completely deserted, for which Daria was thankful. News travelled fast in the Temple and Qui-Gon would not be pleased if he knew where she was going. She only hoped no one she knew was on duty at the main entrance.

The arrival of the turbolift at the end of the hall seemed louder than she knew it was in the pre-dawn quiet of the Jedi living quarters. She stepped inside quickly and directed it to the main floor, its quiet hum soothing her fraying nerves. It was unsettling feeling like an intruder in a place that had once been her home, the only safe place in her memory. She had been older than most when she came to the Temple, but she had still been young enough that she had few memories of her life before this place. As the doors to the lift parted silently she hooked her white cloak over her shoulders, fastening the silver clasp at her neck as she stepped into the pillared hallway. Knowing her snow white hair made her stand out in a crowd she drew her hood up around her face, not eager to have her passing remembered by anyone.

Here in the main hallway things were busier than the living quarters. A pair of Jedi passed her quickly, their faces and clothes tarnished with soot, the scent of death and fire trailing after them. Her stomach lurched in response and she gave them a wider berth than was strictly necessary. Another much older Jedi was walking a slight distance ahead of her, his wizened human features tranquil, his steps languid. The Force clung to him, seeped from him, his presence in the Force so bright it hurt Daria's head. He chuckled quietly, his presence dimming immediately and Daria knew he had sensed her thoughts.

"My apologies, young one, I am usually quite alone here at such an early hour."

For an instant Daria considered pretending she hadn't heard him, but she knew he would sense her deception. She sighed and walked to where he stood watching her in the shadow of one of the pillars. She bowed slightly.

"Your apology is unnecessary, Master. You are free to commune with the Force as you wish."

The man's eyes twinkled in the dim light of the torches that lit the hallway.

"I am aware of that, young one." Daria smiled. "And just what is it that brings you to these halls at such an early hour Daria Karzul?"

Daria hesitated, deciding to deflect his question with one of her own.

"How is it you know who I am?"

"You do not look like a Jedi, young one, and no other outsider has been given the freedom to walk these halls in many centuries." Daria looked away, undeniably stung at being referred to as an outsider, but unable to contradict that she was. Moreover, leaving had been her choice. She flinched, startled when the man reached out and laid his palm against her cheek, turning her gaze back to him. He smiled. "Take heart, padawan. The Force will guide you. It will give you strength for what is to come, if only you ask."

Daria frowned.

"You have said yourself, Master, I am no padawan. Why would the Force speak to me?"

The man chuckled, shaking his head.

"A padawan is a learner, a student of the Force, and for all we may try at times to do so, the Force cannot be contained here within these walls. Knowledge of the Force, of all things, is creeping throughout the galaxies, waiting to be discovered by those who seek it." Daria's eyes widened. He couldn't be condoning her study of the Force. She had no master, no guide. She could easily be drawn to the dark side. "The Force will be with you, padawan, wherever it may lead you, so long as you are willing to follow it."

"Master I –

"Get your kriffing Jedi hands off of me!" Daria blinked. She knew that voice. "Look, I'm not trying to invade your Temple. Do I really look like I could, even if I wanted to?"

Daria swore and turned toward the entrance.

"We shall speak another time perhaps, padawan. You had best go see to your young friend before Master Raek decides he is an agent of the Sith, hm?"

Daria looked back at the old Jedi and smiled. It felt undeniably good to be referred to as padawan again. It made her feel like she belonged. Having spent the last two years running, hiding, or in prison, belonging was something she desperately needed.

"Thank you, Master. I'm grateful for your insights."

Daria bowed and the old master returned the gesture.

"May the Force be with you, padawan."

"And with you, Master."

"Rape! Mugging! Somebody! Anybody, help me! I'm being kidnapped by a Jedi!" Daria groaned and began to run. "Help!"

"Would you be still," hissed a second voice. "We are not kidnapping you. I only want you to be quiet so I can ask you what in Force you are doing here!"

Daria skidded around the last pillar, unsurprised by the sight that met her. A scrawny human teen with spiked raven hair was being held by two padawans, a female human and a male Rodian. The teen had been forced to his knees and was glaring up at Jedi Master Raek, a beautiful amethyst-skinned Twi'lek who looked less than impressed by his attempts to draw attention to his situation.

"What I want to know," announced the Rodian padawan, "is why I wasn't able to sense him."

"Can't help it if you can't do your job, can I," the teen sniped, squawking in protest when the young Rodian twisted his arm. "Lay off, will you! I'd like to use that arm again."

"Enough," bellowed Master Raek. The Master closed her eyes, drawing a deep breath before she opened them again. "The reason you could not sense him, Padawan Vi is because he used the Force to cloak himself and did a fair job of it for one untrained."

The dark-haired teen snorted.

"Who says I'm untrained? All you can say for certain is that I wasn't trained by the Jedi."

"True enough," Master Raek conceded. "However, I suggest you answer my questions as to who you are and what you are doing here. Breaking into the Jedi Temple is a serious offense, one punishable by eleven years on a penal planet, which I'm certain is unappealing even to someone with your attitude."

"My name is Zilas."

"And what are you doing here," prompted Master Raek.

Zilas said nothing, his eyes flicking to one of the nearby bronzium statues. Daria had seen that expression before when Zilas had been brought before much less charitable men and women than Master Raek was reputed to be. He would say nothing, not if there was a possibility his words would endanger someone he cared about. Daria stepped forward.

"He is here to see me, Master Raek."

Master Raek turned her gaze to Daria, ignoring Zilas in lieu of someone willing to provide answers. Zilas shook his head vehemently, his eyes imploring Daria to leave as the Twi'lek Master motioned for her to join them. He'd never known the Jedi and didn't trust them as Daria did. Hence, Daria complied, bowing at the waist as she approached Master Raek and nodding to the pair holding Zilas.

"I wondered how long you would hide in the shadows before you joined us." Daria blushed. She had not missed the ability of the Jedi knights and masters to see through her at a glance. "You are Daria Karzul."

It was not a question, but Daria still felt compelled to answer.

"Yes, Master, I am."

Master Raek nodded, her long brown robes rippling softly in the gentle breeze funnelling through the Processional Way and into the Temple behind them.

"You asked him to meet you here?"

"Yes, Master," Daria confirmed, glaring at Zilas who had the decency to look abashed, "but I assure you I did not instruct him to attempt to infiltrate the Temple. I told him I would meet him outside."

For the first time since Daria's arrival, the right corner of Master Raek's mouth twitched upwards.

"Well, to be truthful, he didn't get far."

Zilas shot the Jedi master a withering look and Daria arched a brow.

"_You can sneak into the treasury of an imperial palace, but not a temple? You're losing your touch, Zilas,"_ Daria observed wryly, switching to an obscure dialect used by slavers in the Outer Rim.

"_I just wanted to see if I could do it,"_ Zilas replied with a cheeky grin. _"I actually got farther than I thought I would. If it weren't for Master pony-tails here I might have made it out of the atrium."_

Daria stepped forward abruptly, grabbing Zilas' collar and yanking him forward so that his nose was touching hers.

"_You will show Master Raek the respect she is due. You may have learned to wield the Force without the Jedi, but do not ever believe you are above them. You are above no one. Is that clear?"_

Zilas swallowed audibly and nodded. Daria released him, aware that the two padawans were watching her curiously. Master Raek cleared her throat. She had yet to lose her amused expression and Daria wondered briefly if the woman had understood her conversation with Zilas.

"Can I trust you to see he finds his way out, Ms Karzul?"

"Of course, Master Raek."

Master Raek nodded and the pair holding Zilas released him. Zilas rubbed his arms, stretching them experimentally as if checking to ensure the padawans had not inflicted any permanent damage. The girl bowed to Master Raek and left, but the Rodian boy lingered, eyeing Zilas suspiciously. Daria stepped between the two, taking Zilas by the arm and guiding him toward the Temple entrance.

"Do wish any message to be left with Master Jinn, Ms Karzul?"

Daria stopped, but didn't relinquish her hold on Zilas' arm. The uneasy feeling she'd had leaving Qui-Gon's quarters returned in wave. It was a mix of guilt and apprehension, coiling and writhing behind her navel. She hated to deceive Qui-Gon, especially now that he'd risked so much to help her. What if she was wrong? What if she disappointed him? Maybe she should just tell him. No. If he knew he would be obligated to tell the Council. She couldn't allow that. Not yet.

Taking a deep breath Daria turned back to face Master Raek who now stood alone, her expression one of concern as she held Daria's gaze.

"Only that I will return, Master."

The Twi'lek master nodded, her lekku shifting slightly against her shoulders as Daria passed through the entrance and out onto the Processional Way, Zilas in tow. Daria kept waiting for Master Raek to call her back, feeling very much like a crechling trying to hide something from the crechemaster as she hurried down the first two sets of stairs. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and dishonest.

Zilas let her keep her silence as they passed the first two pairs of bronzium statues that lined the courtyard into the Temple, opening his mouth only when Daria had drawn him behind the base of the last statue on the left.

"I'm sorry for what I said about Master Raek, Daria," he offered quietly.

Daria sighed, bracing her back against the statue's base and sliding to the ground. She was so tired, tired of Force visions, secrets, and sneaking, but she saw no other way. Zilas dropped down beside her, twisting the black ring on his left pointer finger so the sapphire starburst was hidden against his palm.

"It's all right," Daria managed after taking a moment to release her exhaustion and frustration into the Force. "I shouldn't have snapped at you like that, I was just worried. Do you realize how easily you could have been killed?"

"I wasn't thinking," Zilas granted. "I just got here way early and I was, well I was bored."

Daria laughed.

"You were bored? So you decided to break into one of the most heavily guarded buildings in all of Coruscant?"

Zilas snorted.

"You're one to talk." The hairs on Daria's neck prickled and her face grew hot. "Although, you at least pulled it off."

"Only because I convinced Master Jinn and Obi Wan not to kill me."

Zilas shrugged.

"Whatever it takes to get the job done. I mean, once when I was on Genarius I had to dress up like one of the trader's daughters just to get out of the city with my profit."

Daria rolled her eyes.

"Sometimes you make being a thief sound glamorous. Then there's now."

Zilas pouted.

"I'm more than just some common thief Dari and you know it! I mean, could a common thief infiltrate the Galactic Senate undetected?"

Daria smiled, ruffling Zilas' spiky locks affectionately.

"Definitely not. So, what did you find out?"

Zilas grinned, his blue eyes snapping as he leaned back, bracing himself on his elbows as he looked up at the early morning sky.

"Esprix brought his case before the Senate yesterday afternoon as I told you he would. He knew about several of the murders and brought evidence from those cases in addition to his son's. I think he was afraid a single case might just be brushed aside, especially coming from him. He's not exactly an outspoken representative. I'm pretty sure half of the senators didn't even know who he was before yesterday."

"They'll never forget him now," Daria murmured.

"I'll say," Zilas agreed. "However, our esteemed senator was a little overeager. Instead of moving for an investigation of the Jedi he moved to have them eliminated outright. He claimed that what he had was evidence enough that an inquiry was unnecessary."

"How many cases did he bring?"

Zilas squinted at the pale lavender sky, lips pursed.

"I think there were twenty-seven, most of them from the Mid-Rim."

"We're lucky," Daria admitted. "Master Jinn was able to find more than one hundred after only a few hours in the Senate's archives. He estimates there may be as many as several hundred deaths, all of which implicate the Jedi."

Zilas pulled himself upright, his expression dark. It was an expression rarely seen on his thin features and when coupled with his stubble it made him look a great deal older than fifteen.

"Dari, that's a lot more than what we thought." Daria nodded. "How did the Council respond?"

Daria pushed back the hood of her cloak, glancing at the boy beside her.

"How does the Council ever respond? They were concerned. They were interested. Now they must meditate."

"Hey it could have been worse." Daria raised a brow. "They could have totally dismissed you. And aren't you the one always telling me about the value of meditation?"

Daria laughed, leaning forward so that her head was cradled in her hands, her elbows propped on her knees.

"I know I'm in hard shape when you've become the voice of reason." Zilas stuck out his tongue, but said nothing. "What was the response of the Senate to Esprix's motion?"

"Mixed bag," said Zilas with a shrug. "Chancellor Vellorum looked like he wanted to boot Esprix out the second he started badmouthing the Jedi, but he's in too deep with the Bureaucrats. A lot of them have reason to want the Jedi gone, but lucky for the Jedi most of them are smart enough to realize they haven't got the power to get rid of the Order yet."

"The Bureaucrats won't try anything," Daria commented absently, eyes fixed on a small pebble by her knee. "Not until they're certain that any move against the Jedi will succeed. They're too concerned about backlash."

Daria lifted her head and looked at Zilas who had shifted so that he was lying on his back with his legs flush against the base of the statue, his feet in the air. Daria noted absently that his left boot had a hole in the sole. Not that it mattered to Zilas. It matched his torn baggy pants and the oversized flak jacket he wore open over a fitted shirt. How he managed to slip into the Senate looking like a warzone refugee Daria didn't want to know, but she trusted Zilas to take care of himself. He'd been dealing with slavers, thugs, traders, and black market fences since he was about nine. She'd learned a lot from him. Even if most of the time she was the one taking care of him and getting him out of trouble.

A passing Wookie Jedi eyed them enquiringly, but didn't stop. Daria followed him with her eyes as his long legs carried him quickly up the Way and into the shadowed depths of the Temple as the first light of sunrise turned the ziggurat to gold. She had missed watching the sunrise over the Temple. It made the building seem even more otherworldly than it already was, rising high above the ever-expanding skyline of durasteel and glass.

"What about Naboo? Were your contacts with the Trade Federation any help?"

"No, I haven't been able to reach Gael. It's actually making me a little bit nervous," Zilas confessed, although his concern was quickly replaced with pride. "I did however learn something while I was at the Senate. It seems that Naboo's Senator Palpatine has garnered Queen Amidala an audience with the Senate for this afternoon. Although with the Bureaucrats in the Trade Federation's pocket, help seems unlikely."

Daria nodded, smiling slightly as she looked at Zilas from the corner of her eye.

"At least help from the Senate."

Zilas grinned and pumped his fist into the air.

"Exactly! So what's our next move?" Daria shook her head, grateful as always for Zilas' enthusiasm. "Do you think the Jedi will give them any help?"

"It's very possible, yes, especially since the Jedi have already been involved in the situation. I wouldn't be surprised if Qui-Gon and Obi Wan are sent back to Naboo, especially if Padme decides she's going back."

"Which she will."

"Why do you say that Zilas?"

"Well, neither of us expects she'll get much help from the Senate and let's face it, Padme is not one to just sit back and watch while the people she was elected to protect are being threatened. She's too much of an idealist."

"Idealist is not a dirty word, Zilas," Daria reminded her friend as the boy made a face. "Just because you and I are slightly cynical doesn't mean optimism doesn't have its value."

"Yes, because optimism will get you real far when you're being hunted or traded," Zilas said with a sneer. "Does she still believe slavery doesn't exist?"

"I would expect that her crash landing on Tatooine has given her majesty a taste of unpleasant reality. The Hutts run that place like it's their own private sand box and the Jedi don't usually get asked to visit."

Zilas snorted.

"The Hutts are slow, not stupid." Zilas pulled his legs to his chest, levering himself up so that he was sitting facing Daria. "So what's the plan, Dari?"

"Do you think you can get to Padme?" Zilas grinned which Daria took to mean yes. "All right, I need you to give her a message. Tell her that should things with the Senate not proceed as she hopes I am willing to go back with her to Naboo. I will fight with her to whatever end."

"I just hope you're not expecting me to say it exactly like that. You know my political vocabulary is a little unreliable."

"Only when you want it to be," Daria chided, ducking to miss Zilas' half-hearted swing at her head. "You know I don't care about semantics Zilas. Just make sure she understands that I will go with her. Once you've delivered your message I want you to stay with Padme until she's made her decision. You can bring me her reply. I don't trust proper channels out of the Senate."

"Then you're talking to the right guy," declared Zilas as he pulled himself to his feet. "My middle name is improper channels."

"No," Daria countered, "your middle name is –

"Oi! Come on Dari, you promised you'd never say it again."

Daria laughed as Zilas scowled.

"All right, all right," she granted, unfolding her legs as Zilas pulled her to her feet. She reached into her pocket and handed Zilas a half a dozen credit chips. Zilas frowned at her inquiringly. "Buy yourself a new pair of boots. I don't want you to wind up with some sort of poisonous creepy-crawly up your boot the next time we wind up on the Outer Rim."

Zilas smiled and raised his right hand to his forehead, cutting a lacklustre salute.

"Yes, M'am. Any further orders M'am?"

Daria drew the hood of her cloak up over her head and laid her hoverboard on the ground.

"Two. First see if you can get in touch with Talor, make sure he's still alive and Giz hasn't blown everything we own to Kingdom Come. Second, when you come back with a message from Padme go to the Public Entrance or you'll wish I'd let Master Raek put you in a Jedi holding cell." Zilas laughed as Daria pressed the small switch beneath her left heal and the hoverboard flared to life. She drew her knees up toward her chest and the board repulsed itself off the ground so that she was hovering just above Zilas' head. She leaned forward and flew out from behind the statue, pausing while still its shadow as she called over her shoulder. "And get some breakfast!"

"That's three things," shouted Zilas.

Daria smiled, knowing Zilas liked having someone who was trying to take care of him, even if he didn't bother to listen. She waved him off and leaned forward shooting out over heads of the pedestrians like she'd been launched from a catapult. A nearby Jedi shouted at her, irritated by her close proximity to his padawan when she turned the first corner of the Way. Daria offered a quick apology, but didn't stop. Although she couldn't sense from where, someone was watching her.

"Obi Wan! Pay attention," bellowed Qui-Gon, pressing his advantage in the face of Obi Wan's distraction. The result was a searing cut in Obi Wan's right thigh. Obi Wan grunted and his master paused. "Obi Wan, you must focus. It is not my wish to harm you, Padawan, but your enemies will show you even less mercy than I."

Qui-Gon sighed, frustration evident in his rigid posture. The elder Jedi deactivated his lightsaber and closed his eyes. Obi Wan sensed a release of irritation and tension, using his master's respite to assess the damage to his thigh. A minor cut. It burned like the fire of a newly-born sun, but it wasn't deep enough to compromise his mobility. Force he missed the days of practice sabers sometimes.

"Shall we try again?" Obi-Wan looked to his Master whose posture was now one of controlled readiness and nodded. "Good. Just focus, Obi Wan. You are more than capable of deflecting me."

Obi Wan nodded, taking a moment to draw the Force around himself in an attempt to focus. With a snap his master's lightsaber hummed to life, the only warning Obi Wan received before the taller man was on him again. Obi Wan met him deftly, allowing his master to take no ground and rising to meet the man's second downward cut, using his momentum to force him back a step. Qui-Gon allowed it, taking another step backward and forcing Obi Wan to move forward to protect his knees as Qui-Gon crouched and swung his saber in a deadly arc just above the floor. With surprising ease Obi Wan gathered the Force under him and launched himself up over the elder man, quickly turning to meet his master's next strike.

Their sabers cracked feverishly as the plasma blades ground against each other, neither he nor his master willing to relinquish their position. Sweat trickled down his back beneath his rough tan tunic, the salt stinging his eyes and burning his face in the wake of the searing weapon in his hand. Discreetly his master slid his left hand down the hilt of his saber and Obi Wan mirrored the action a second later, barely managing to meet and match the force-thrust his master had levelled at him. The invisible pulse of two opposing powers pushed against one another, the friction expanding, building until Obi Wan's entire body trembled from the effort it was taking to contain it.

Then in an instant he couldn't hold it any longer and he was thrown back, flailing inelegantly as he tried to gain his equilibrium mid-air. He managed to right himself seconds before he crashed into the ground, skidding backward on his hands and knees. He had less than a breath to gain his feet as his master came soaring toward him. Obi Wan leapt to his feet and kept going, using his upward momentum to drive his master back a half step. His master smiled and Obi Wan caught a wisp of pride as it curled around him briefly. It was all he needed to once again distract him from the task at hand and remind him of the shame that had diverted his attention in the first place. He was hiding something from Qui-Gon.

As if sensing his distraction his master began to attack with a ferocity that Obi Wan knew intimidated many Jedi. Usually, Obi Wan would simply slip into his Soretsu and allow the Force to guide his hand, matching his master's fire with the calm of an unending spring. Today he panicked and in less than a minute he was on his back on the floor, his master's blade humming against his throat. Qui-Gon frowned, deactivating his lightsaber and turning away.

"All right, Obi Wan. It is clear to me that you are unable to focus this morning. Any further attempts to continue our sparring, would I suspect, be fruitless. So why don't we put our energies into dealing with whatever it is that has you so preoccupied?"

Obi Wan sighed, clicking off his lightsaber as he rolled onto his stomach and levered himself up onto his knees. He clipped the weapon to his belt reflexively and stood, glancing at his master's back where the man stood on the opposite side of the training mat. His usually immaculate posture faltered when he noted that his master wasn't even looking at him. He had disappointed his master. Again.

"I am not disappointed in you Obi Wan, merely tired and concerned by what it is that has so distracted you," his master assured him, turning to face Obi Wan, his expression one of understanding. "Tomorrow we may be in a much more hostile environment than the training room of the Jedi Temple and I do not want your preoccupation to cost you your life."

"Of course, Master," Obi Wan conceded, trying valiantly to ignore the flush of his cheeks. Clearly even his mental shields were failing this morning. "I should not have doubted you."

Qui-Gon smiled.

"I am not beyond doubt, Obi Wan. I may be your master, but I do still make mistakes."

Obi Wan nodded, relaxing as he followed his master past another master whose young padawan was struggling to manage a force-jump. The girl glanced at him and Obi Wan sent her a quick nudge of encouragement as his master led him through the maze of Jedi training facilities and into the main hall. Once there his master turned left and Obi Wan knew where they were going. A turbolift stood waiting when they reached the end of the corridor and Obi Wan stepped inside, unsurprised when his master directed it to the ground floor.

After vacating the turbolift they walked down one of the main halls, passing the towering pillars in comfortable silence. Another left turn and they stood in front of a pair of solid wooden doors that bisected the larmalstone wall where the corridor ended at the base of the northwestern corner of the Temple. They opened silently and Obi Wan paused behind his master, breathing in the scent of earth, water, and vegetation. Life.

The Room of a Thousand Fountains was his favourite room in the entire Temple. Trees, bushes, and flowers from a hundred different worlds spread out in a dozen directions, lining the stone pathways that cut through the soft turf. Streams and fountains chattered ceaselessly, loud in the closed quietness of the room. Here there were no sounds of speeders, no arguing politicians, no wars to be fought or delegations to guide. Here was peace from the earth at their feet to the fabricated sky seven stories above them.

Without question Obi Wan followed his master, smiling at the sight of a trio of padawans going through their forms and a master sitting on the edge of a fountain, his eyes closed in meditation. He'd spoken not a single word to his master and already he felt more at ease as they took one of the less used paths, ducking under a low hanging branch as they entered a small copse of assari trees that had been a gift to the Jedi years earlier.

Qui-Gon walked to the far side of the clearing and sat, his back straight as he folded his legs under himself, waiting until Obi Wan mirrored his actions. Obi Wan's master smiled slightly and drew a deep breath before he spoke the question Obi Wan had known he would ask since they left the training room.

"What is it that troubles you, my padawan?"

Obi Wan shifted uncomfortably on the sod, tugging relentlessly at a small weed under his left foot. Ultimately he knew he would tell his master what was troubling him, but somehow he couldn't just come out with it. He had to resist, tricking himself into believing that he wouldn't tell, even if only for a little while. It had always been this way with he and his master and it was something his master was never slow to remind him of when Obi Wan accused the elder man of being stubborn.

"Does it have anything to do with Daria's revelations?"

Obi Wan cringed inwardly. His life as a Jedi had allowed him many glimpses into the worst of what humanity had to offer. He had seen slavery in many forms and in none of its incarnations was it something pleasant.

Since Daria's confession to Anakin the night before, the visions of every horrible image of enslavement he'd ever seen had exchanged the victims he'd helped with Daria. It was no longer a young Twi'lek girl bound, burned, and bloodied, but Daria. It wasn't a man from Coruscant that had been worked literally to death, it was Daria. It wasn't a family chained to the walls of a hidden compartment in a slavers ship dehydrated and starved, it was Daria. It wasn't a nameless blonde that had been sold as a sex slave to an unscrupulous senator, it was Daria.

Obi Wan shook his head, releasing the anger those images evoked to the Force before meeting his master's blue eyes.

"I will admit Master that I have spent much time dwelling on what Daria told us."

Qui-Gon nodded, his eyes holding Obi Wan's searchingly. For a moment, Obi Wan caught a flash of pain across the bond he shared with his master, but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. However, Obi Wan knew as controlled as his master was for him to let anything slip past his carefully held shields, what he was feeling must be almost unbearable. His master swallowed slowly.

"I too have spent much time meditating on what you have told me." Obi Wan felt his cheeks warm as it had never actually occurred to him that he should meditate about what Daria had told him. "Yet, I sense this is not what has you so distracted."

Obi Wan shook his head.

"No, Master, it is not." He looked to the nearest assari tree, studying the soft tendrils that hung from its branches and gathering his fleeing resolve to tell his master the truth. "It, it does however involve Daria."

Qui-Gon raised a brow, his smile slowly widening.

"I don't suppose this has anything to do with the rather interesting position I found you two in last evening?" Obi Wan's jaw fell of its own accord. Qui-Gon laughed. "You may be a Jedi Obi Wan, but you are only human. You would not be the first among us to have felt such things."

"M-master, no! It's, it's Daria! I could never, would never feel anything l-like that toward her."

Qui-Gon chuckled, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

"All right, all right, Obi Wan. If not that then what is it about her that has bothered you so?"

Obi Wan sighed, his heart pounding in his ears and his face aflame. How could his master think such indecencies? However, if it was his master's desire to unnerve him into confessing, it was effective.

"Daria left the Temple this morning before dawn."

Qui-Gon nodded.

"Yes, I sensed her leaving."

"I-I did too. She was checking to make sure we were still asleep I think and was a little more vigorous than she should have been." Obi Wan paused, forcing himself to look his master in the eye as he spoke. "Master, I followed her when she left." Qui-Gon frowned, making no attempt to disguise his displeasure. Obi Wan rushed to his own defence. "I was worried, Master. I was afraid that something might happen to her. I only wanted to protect her. So I hid myself with the Force and followed her. It's well I did Master. She went to the Works! You know the kind of people that lurk there. The worst of the worst! Daria shouldn't have been there!"

Qui-Gon sighed, running his long fingers through his greying hair, a gesture Obi Wan had noticed him doing a lot since Daria's return two nights ago.

"Obi Wan, you should not have followed Daria."

"But Master, it is not right for her to be in places like that," Obi Wan protested vehemently. "At least one of the stores she went into is owned by a known black market trader. Not to mention the fact that she went into _Slo's Cantina_. I lost her after that and who knows where else she went? You've got to talk to her, Master. You must make her understand that she can't go places like that, that they're dangerous, especially for a lone Jedi."

"Obi Wan." Qui-Gon's voice was barely above a whisper as he reached out and laid his hand over Obi Wan's. "Obi Wan, there is something that _you_ must be made to understand." Obi Wan blinked, confused as he held his master's mournful gaze. "Daria is no longer one of us. She is not a Jedi and because of that she is free to do things we are not, free to go to places and to speak with people we would not. She now walks a different path than you and I, Padawan. You must understand that."

"But Master—

"No, Obi Wan!" His master's voice was loud shrouded in the quiet of the assari trees. "No, Obi Wan. Daria is not now nor will she ever again be one of the Jedi! She is here to help us and once she has done that she will leave. She cannot come back. She can never be one of us again."

Qui Gon withdrew his hand and to Obi Wan the gesture seemed as harsh as if his master had slapped him. It left him feeling numb and absolutely lost as his master stood, his expression sympathetic but unyielding, as Obi Wan looked up at him, pleading with his eyes for his master to change his mind. His master would not be moved.

"No, Obi Wan," he whispered, "no. Daria is no longer a Jedi and as such neither you nor I have any right to attempt to control her actions. We must trust that the Force knows what it is doing, that it is guiding Daria and us, and that it has a reason for all of this." Obi Wan felt tears stinging in the corners of his eyes as his master walked away, pausing at the edge of the stand of trees. "I am sorry, Padawan. I wish things might have been different, for all of us."

Obi Wan nodded knowing his master was standing behind him, waiting for some sign of acknowledgement. A nod was all he could give.

How had his master known? How had he known when Obi Wan had not even admitted to himself? He wanted Daria to stay. He wanted things to be as they were. Why couldn't Daria stay and Anakin go? Why couldn't Qui-Gon defy the Council to take Daria as his padawan instead of Anakin?

His chest ached as he mourned the loss of a friend he had thought gone forever. He'd thought he'd dealt with her parting, that he had come to terms with the fact that she was no longer a Jedi. Apparently he had not done as well as he'd thought.

"Nor have I, Padawan Kenobi."

Obi Wan jumped at the clipped admission, whirling, hand on his saber, to find himself looking at Mace Windu's knees. Still crouched, Obi Wan lifted his face to the Korun master. He had never spent much time with the man, even when he had been Daria's master, and had always found him difficult to read. He was always so reticent, so closed off.

He realized belatedly that his hand was still on his saber and let it fall to his side as he stood, bowing briefly. Master Windu returned the gesture and then held Obi Wan's gaze, his brown eyes almost black in the shade of the assari trees. Yet, there was something else different about the man, something in his bearing. He seemed somehow less imposing than usual. He seemed to be suffering, to be in pain.

Obi Wan dismissed his inner observations, guessing that as restrained Master Windu typically was, he would not appreciate Obi Wan's inquiries. Instead, Obi Wan opened his mouth to ask why the man was there, but the words caught in his throat. Master Windu had said, _Nor have I, Padawan Kenobi_. Alone it was a statement that made little sense. Only when coupled with Obi Wan's thoughts regarding his attachment to Daria did it mean anything at all. It seemed impossible. Surely Master Windu hadn't been referring to Obi Wan's thoughts. Surely such an austere man would not struggle with attachment. He closed his mouth, more uncertain than ever as to what he should say or do.

"Peace, Padawan Kenobi." It was a command, but it was more kindly spoken than anything Obi Wan could ever remember Master Windu saying. "I came here in search of your master, but Master Bintes tells me he has been called away. It seems young Skywalker has gotten himself lost. I would leave a message with you in his absence." Obi Wan nodded, pleased by the return of Master Windu's brusque tone. It was much more familiar. "When Daria returns have her come to me. I will be with the Council, but I will make time to speak with her."

Obi Wan nodded again.

"I will relay your message, Master Windu."

The taller Jedi nodded and reached into the depths of his robe, withdrawing a small cloth, which he passed to Obi Wan. Obi Wan looked down at the cloth in his hand and back to the master in front of him.

"I thought you might like to wipe your face with cool water before you traverse the halls."

Obi Wan blushed, cursing his tears and his emotions as he nodded mutely. Master Windu returned the gesture and an instant later, was gone. Obi Wan dropped awkwardly to the ground and buried his face in his hands. Apparently every Jedi Master in the Temple was conspiring to make him feel like some untested crecheling today. Joy.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

"Enter," Mace commanded, having sensed her approach long before she reached the door. The door slid open quietly and Daria stepped through. Mace gestured to the cushioned seat across from him. "Please, sit."

Daria didn't move. Instead, she stood glaring at him, arms folded tightly across her ribcage. Mace sighed and lowered his hand, returning the girl's gaze sadly. He should have known better than to think this would be easy given the terms on which they parted two years ago. Still, he'd hoped she might at least speak to him. She had spoken to him in council yesterday.

"Daria, please," he implored, finding that as much as it shouldn't, her bond with him still mattered a great deal. "I only wish to speak with you, to spend a few moments with you while you are here."

"To what end, Master Windu?"

Mace winced inwardly at the cutting edge of her reply. At least she was talking to him.

"I have no end in mind, Daria."

"I find that difficult to believe, Master Windu," Daria replied, her tone less spiteful as she took the seat across from him. "However, I will listen."

Mace nodded, pleased to be gaining ground, even if it was only an inch at a time. Daria arched a brow pointedly. Clearly it would be up to him to carry this conversation. She had after all agreed only to listen, not to speak. However, as Mace looked to the girl sitting across from him, he found he wasn't sure what to say.

So many times during Daria's apprenticeship they had sat in this very room, in these very chairs, speaking of everything and of nothing, of missions, of lessons, of politics, of art, of grief, and of triumph. Now it was as if none of that had ever been. It was as if he had never known her. Mace blinked, realizing he didn't know her. Not this Daria. This Daria was not a girl, but a young woman. She was not a Jedi. She was a civilian. His heart wrenched at the thought. She had held such promise, even more than Depa. He had never seen a padawan so gifted with a lightsaber, a trait Mace had always attributed to her Echani heritage.

Among the Echani fighting was viewed as the most poetic and pure form of expression and communication. A battle could tell an Echani fighter more about a person than hours of conversation, or so it was said. According to Qui-Gon, Daria's mother Calla had been an Echani with alabaster skin, silver eyes, and white hair. However Daria's father was human, which accounted for Daria's dark complexion and brown eyes. Daria had not been raised among the Echani, even before she was brought to the Temple, but something in Daria remembered the culture of her mother's kindred. She was a warrior.

If showed a form once, it was hers. Mace had noticed her when she was still an initiate, sitting in one of the training rooms watching knights sparring. He had recognized her at once as the tiny child that Qui-Gon had permitted to trail after him for nearly a year. Yet, since she'd settled in the crèche, he hadn't spared her another thought, not until he found her spending her free time watching sparring matches while most of the other initiates were playing games.

The knights were untroubled by her presence, some of them speaking to her throughout their matches. Daria would smile and laugh with them, completely at ease in a situation that for all their talk made even the boldest of initiates uncomfortable. He'd questioned Master Yoda about her at length. The diminutive master's only reply had been a wry smile and the recommendation that Mace come and see Daria's skill for himself. After a month of watching her watching knights Mace had chosen to visit one of the initiates' sparring sessions. Daria had fought at a skill level far above her peers. Her skill had so surprised him that he didn't even realize until halfway through her spar that she was mimicking the movements of one of the knights she'd been watching in the training rooms a week earlier.

After her spar Mace had approached her, complimenting her skill and asking if she would enjoy some private lessons with him, provided Master Yoda approved. Daria had agreed enthusiastically and Mace had found himself looking forward to her first lesson, eager to see what she could do when truly pressed. She did not disappoint. At eight years of age she could out-spar even the eldest of the initiates and hold her own against some of the younger padawans. Yet, in one sense her proclivity for combat was also a hindrance.

Daria's natural martial ability was so great that she rarely needed to rely on the Force. Like many of the Echani Daria could read her opponents' movements so easily after a few minutes of sparring that it bordered on precognition. She didn't need the Force to tell her how her opponent would move, she already knew. As such she struggled to match the other initiates in the use of the Force, meaning that she was eleven before Mace could objectively justify formally taking her on as his padawan.

Mace frowned. Daria had continued to struggle with using the Force even after she became his padawan. While she loved sparring with Mace, they spent more time together working on honing her skills with the Force. Had Daria not been so determined to learn, it's possible she might not have been accepted as a padawan at all. It was strange then, that a padawan that had struggled so much to use the Force would be the one to receive visions predicting the doom of the Jedi Order. Saesee Tiin might have been out of line in criticizing Daria while she was before the Council yesterday, but even Mace couldn't deny that he was right.

"Daria, when did you start receiving these visions?"

His voice seemed loud in the quiet that had settled over them since Daria agreed to listen. He watched, mindful of every minute flicker of the Force that surrounded his former padawan. Daria didn't take her eyes off of the traffic she'd begun studying in the wake of Mace's silence. He watched her eyes trailing after an orange speeder, biding his time, knowing that if he pushed her Daria would shut him out.

"Are you asking in an official capacity as a member of the High Council, Master Windu? Or as my former master?"

Daria's question wasn't angry as much as wary. It was as if she was testing him, to see if he could be trusted. It hurt him more than her anger. Even when they had disagreed – which Daria being headstrong as she was, was often – Daria had always trusted him. He wondered what had happened, what had changed her, but decided the why wasn't as important in this moment as proving to Daria that she could still trust him. He considered reaching out through the training bond they'd once shared, but decided it might be too invasive at this point in time. Instead, he lifted his hand and gently squeezed Daria's shoulder.

He felt her surprise rippling out in waves as she turned her face toward him. Only when he could see her eyes did he speak.

"I am asking, Daria, as your former master," he clarified quietly. "You do not look well and I worry about you, as I always have."

Daria ran her tongue over her bottom lip nervously, her eyes boring into his as if they would tell her whether he was lying.

"The first one was seventeen months ago," she said slowly, "but they didn't become frequent until ten months ago."

"And they are not always the same?"

Daria shook her head.

"No."

Mace drew back his hand, able to feel the furrows in his brow deepening as he studied his former padawan. He'd noticed yesterday the unhealthy pallor of her skin, the dark smudges under her eyes, and the unnatural thinness of her frame. Today as she sat in the sun streaming through the windows beside them she looked even worse. Not for the first time, he wished he had stopped her from leaving. If she had stayed she would be the same vibrant, healthy girl she'd been when she left. If she had stayed he could have helped her through her visions, he could have made sure she was rested, he could have helped her in searching through the files to find out who was targeting the Jedi. He could have protected her, cared for her. Now it seemed too late and any gesture he could think of to try and make up for lost time seemed offensive.

"Daria, is there anything I can do? To help you?"

For the first time since she'd come, Mace saw Daria smile, but it wasn't the smile he remembered. It was sad and worn.

"While I appreciate the sentiment, Master, we must both adjust to the fact that I am no longer your responsibility."

"That doesn't mean I can't help you, Daria," Mace snapped, bristling defensively at the truth of her words. "It is the mandate of the Jedi to help any in need."

Daria snorted, rolling her eyes.

"Master Windu, I think you and I have discussed our interpretations of the Jedi mandate more than is healthy, don't you agree?" Mace flinched. "I am aware of your unyielding support of the Republic and your self-appointed duty to accomplish what is right for the Order and the Republic by any means."

Mace felt his temper flare.

"You make it sound as if I would commit any act to see what is right done. You know that's not true."

"Yes, I do, but I also know you do believe that the end justifies the means." Daria's pretty face was tight with anger as she fisted the hem of her dress in her hands so viciously Mace expected it to tear at any moment. "I have lived your beliefs," she continued accusingly, "I have killed for them. I want no part in them or your Order. I thought I made that clear when I left two years ago!"

"Clear," Mace choked incredulously, indulging in his temper even as the Force cautioned him of the dangers of doing so. "Clear, Daria? Nothing about your departure was clear and if you want no part of _my_ Order, then why come back at all?"

"I disagreed with the Order. That doesn't mean I stopped believing in the Jedi. It doesn't mean that I stopped caring."

"Then this is about your attachment."

Daria paled, her cheeks flushed.

"Some might call it compassion, Master Windu. I don't want to see anyone wiped out, including the Jedi." Daria paused, the calm of her voice when she continued a stark contrast to the emotions Mace could sense churning inside of her. "Of all the people in the Galaxy, the Jedi are among the few who listen to the Force's guidance, you dedicate your lives to it. I have to believe that good can come from that or everything I've done since I left the Order was for nothing."

The heat of Mace's temper vanished in an instant, extinguished by a cold rush of fear.

"Daria, what is it that you've done?"

Daria smiled sadly.

"Someday, Master, you'll know, I promise."

The Force shifted abruptly, pressing against Mace, insisting that what Daria had done since leaving the Jedi was important, that he needed to know what she'd done. Mace held Daria's gaze, searching the Force for guidance. Why was what she'd done so important? He got no reply, only an unsettling sense of impending danger, which was followed directly by a swell of protectiveness. Mace opened his mouth, prepared to exact the truth from his former padawan, but it was not to be.

_Tap. Tap._

Mace sighed and growled, _enter_.

The knight that entered seemed unbothered by Mace's ill temper.

"Master Windu, I've been sent to inform Ms Karzul that a young man is waiting for her at the Public Entrance."

Mace nodded and with a bow, the knight left. When he turned back to Daria she was already on her feet. He scowled.

"Daria, we have not finished."

Daria raised a brow.

"With all due respect, Master Windu, I have things to which I must attend and as you are no longer my master, I am not bound by your word. Therefore we are finished."

Mace wasn't sure whether to be hurt or angered by her words. He chose neither, releasing both feelings as he slipped into the calming tides of the Force. His conversation with Daria had revealed little, but he needed to meditate, to try and pinpoint the danger he could sense looming in front of her. It somehow felt connected to the warning he'd felt undulating across the Force yesterday when Daria had shared her concerns with the Council, but it was different in a way he couldn't define.

The hiss of the door drew his attention and he spoke before he even knew what he wanted to say.

"Padawan." He sensed her stop in the doorway, waiting for him to continue. He fumbled for a moment with what words he wanted and settled for four he hoped might reassure her of him. "Padawan, I am here."

Still immersed in the Force Mace saw as much as sensed Daria's flare of contentment and her smile.

"I know, Master," she whispered. "I know."

How long after Daria left Mace sat in meditation he wasn't sure. He was immersed so deep in the Force that the present was lost to him, unimportant in the face of such limitless knowing and feeling. Slowly he became aware of another presence, one that gently beckoned to him, drawing him out of the depths of his meditation.

Mace opened his eyes, unsurprised to see Master Yoda sitting across from him, his serene features softened by the light of the setting sun. The afternoon was gone.

"Gone for so long, thought you had run away, I did," the small master teased, chuckling softly. Mace said nothing, slowly rolling his shoulders and unfolding his long legs to rid them of the stiffness hours of meditation had caused. "Gained some perspective, have you?"

Mace nodded.

"In a way, yes." Mace frowned, squinting as he watched the setting sun. "I believe Daria is telling the truth about her visions. The Jedi are in danger."

"Came to the same conclusion did we in your absence," Master Yoda said, turning his gimmer stick in his hands. "Any insight into where this danger comes from have you?"

"No, not yet."

Master Yoda smiled.

"Remaining positive you are. Good."

"Master, I spoke with Daria this afternoon," said Mace, disregarding his master's praise. "She was unwilling to divulge what she has been doing since she left the Temple, but I sense very strongly that what she has done is important. I feel she is in danger as much as we are and that we will not be able to protect her until we know what she has done."

Yoda shifted in his seat, humming lowly as he leaned forward, resting his chin on the head of his gimmer stick. His eyes slid slowly closed, his pointed ears lowered. Mace sensed a vast shift in the Force around them as Yoda reached out into its depths. For one so small Master Yoda held more sway with the Force than any Mace had ever encountered.

"Right you may be," Yoda murmured, his eyes opening fractionally to look at Mace. "Spoken with me about Daria's past has Qui-Gon already. Disturbing information he has. Right to be concerned you are."

"What information does he have, Master," asked Mace as his heart dropped below his ribs. "What has Daria told him?"

Yoda shook his head.

"Not Qui-Gon, but Padawan Kenobi and young Skywalker did Daria tell. Think it best if you hear it from Qui-Gon though, I do."

Mace released a flare of frustration into the Force. Was no one capable of being forthcoming today? It seemed everywhere he turned he received part-truths and half-secrets.

"Need you in Council, we do," prompted Yoda gently. "Decisions we have to make. Information we have received in your absence."

"Regarding?"

"Made his motion to disperse the Jedi yesterday Esprix did. Divided the Senate was. Remain so for long I fear they will not. More support for the motion than we anticipated there was."

"Then Daria's sources were correct," concluded Mace. Master Yoda hummed in agreement. "If the Senate has been made aware of the killings and their ties to the Jedi, it won't be long before they find the cases Qui-Gon located."

"More he has found since yesterday. 324 there were when met with him I did and more replies he was receiving still."

Mace bowed his head, cupping his face in his hands. He could feel the beginnings of a headache just behind his eyes, but as he drove his fingertips into his temple in an attempt to alleviate the pain he felt a subtle nudge in the Force. There was still more.

"What else," he managed, kneading his forehead. "You are not finished."

Master Yoda chuckled.

"See through me, you do," he conceded. "Returning to Naboo Queen Amidala is. Unimpressed with the efficiency of our Galactic Senate she is. Although before them she was long enough to cause a stir."

Mace stopped his kneading and lifted his head, his eyes narrowing as he eyed Master Yoda.

"What do you mean caused a stir?"

"Called for a vote of no confidence in Chancellor Vellorum she did," Master Yoda announced with a mischievous smile. "Passed her motion the Senate did. A new chancellor have we now."

Mace shook his head. This was why he preferred fighting to diplomacy. The inevitable rapid changes were much easier to manage.

"Who has been made chancellor?"

"Naboo's own Senator Palpatine."

"Even with Palpatine at the head of the Senate he won't be able to set things in motion to help Amidala face the Trade Federation."

"No, he will not," conceded Master Yoda. "Decided to send Qui-Gon and Padawan Kenobi with her the Council has, if no objections you have."

"No," replied Mace. "Qui-Gon and his Padawan have already been heavily involved in the situation and have created a relationship with her majesty. They are the obvious choice."

"Sent for them we have," Master Yoda informed him with a small nod, "And for young Skywalker as well. Reached a decision we have regarding his training. Changed your mind, have you?"

"No, I still believe the boy should not be trained. There are too many things working against him. It would not end well, for anyone."

"Then unanimous we are, although like our judgement Qui-Gon will not."

Mace sighed.

"No, he will not."

"Inform the Council you will be joining us soon I will," stated Master Yoda as he slid from his chair. "Arriving shortly Qui-Gon and his younglings will be."

Mace sat in silence as Master Yoda limped toward the door, leaning more heavily on his staff than was common for him. Mace couldn't help wondering if the elder master felt the same heaviness in the Force as he did. It was like a physical weight pressing against him, like the weightiness of dark clouds before a maelstrom from the heavens was let loose.

A storm was coming, warned the Force, a storm that would rail and thrash against them with mindless abandon. The question that plagued Mace as he made his way to the Council chamber was whether the Jedi would be standing when the storm cleared. A very insistent voice somewhere deep inside said that if they did, they would never be the same.

To Be Continued...

Stay tuned for the next chapter – we're off to Naboo, less politics and more fighting! Hope this chapter wasn't an information overload, but there are a lot of elements coming together that are going to change the future of the Jedi. I want you to be able to see them, rather than just having them sprung on you. And the increasing number of questions regarding what Daria has done and is planning/doing that she is hiding from the Jedi will be revealed in due time! Worry not!

I would love to hear from you! I accept reviews of all shapes, sizes, and sentiments!

~Sierra~


	4. CH 4: Unknowns Realized

**Summary:** The night Qui-Gon and Obi Wan return from Tatooine (Ep1) they are woken by an intruder. The intruder is an old friend and brings a warning to the Jedi: the end of the Order is near. Yet, the threat does not stem from the return of the Sith lords. Killings throughout the galaxies are being made to look like the work of the Jedi, casting doubt upon the Order and creating a widespread movement to end the Order, the Jedi, and the use of the Force. With the intruder's help Qui-Gon and Obi Wan set out to save the Order from destruction, while still protecting the newfound Chosen One, Anakin Skywalker. The pair's greatest trials lie ahead – torture, imprisonment, grief, alliances, destruction, rebellion, separation, leadership, family, and even love. Through it all Qui-Gon remains determined to give his life to save the Order. Obi Wan, changed by the trials, begins to wonder if they're truly meant to save it. Perhaps...they're meant to do something more. After all, the end is only the beginning.

A/N – If it wasn't clear by my writing this story on a fanfiction site...I don't own SW. Any non-canon characters are my own. My apologies for being so long in updating. Apparently writing and the first year of a Master's program are unmixy things. It leaves no time for luxuries like writing fanfic, reading fanfic, sleeping, eating...lol Hopefully I'll do better in my second year. This chapter is dedicated to **Regin** whose review this week prompted me to go with a little less sleep and edit the draft for this chapter and post it! Cheers and thanks for the encouragement! Til next time ~ Sierra

Chapter 4: Unknowns Realized

"Surely you can understand the Council's position, Master," Obi-Wan hissed, matching his master's long stride through the Temple hallways. "He is too old to be trained. It would be impossible for him to master himself."

Qui-Gon's felt his frown deepen the lines around his mouth as he glanced at his apprentice. Obi-Wan had spent the entirety of their trek from the Council Chambers to their quarters arguing the Council's case and he was quickly tiring of it. He had heard enough of the Council's consternation in chambers. He didn't need more of it from his padawan. However, Obi-Wan was particularly ardent. He appeared to believe it his mandate to convince Qui-Gon to abandon the boy, although Qui-Gon would not be so easily swayed.

That wasn't to say he was without reservations. In many respects Qui-Gon shared the concerns of the Council and their unintended emissary, Obi-Wan. Anakin was old, he was untrained, and he was very attached to the world in which he lived. None of these were qualities that made him an ideal candidate for Jedi training and yet... And yet Qui-Gon sensed very strongly that there was something greater at work here. The Force was moving, stirring in a way Qui-Gon had rarely seen. It was both encouraging and unsettling given Daria's warning and his recent discovery of the Chosen One. For all the Council's admonitions he could not ignore the touch of the Force on both children. They would shape the destiny of planets and galaxies in the years to come, he was certain. He would not leave them to face their fates alone. He would not.

"Master, are you listening?"

"Obi-Wan that is enough." Qui-Gon stopped in the middle of the corridor and turned to face his apprentice. Obi-Wan stopped as well, arms crossed over his chest, a surly expression on his face. "The Council will decide Anakin's fate and I will do as I see fit. You would do well to remember that I, not you, am the master. It is not the trade of padawans to rule the Order or to judge their masters. Do not make me regret my assessment of your readiness for the trials."

Obi-Wan's cheeks grew steadily redder as he spoke and Qui-Gon caught a flicker of shame through their bond, but his padawan kept his defiant stance. Obi Wan was nothing if not stubborn. Without a word Qui-Gon turned and opened the door to their quarters, leaving Obi-Wan to sulk or follow.

"But I thought Bantha were gentle creatures. Why would one attack you?"

Qui-Gon's frustration and anger dissipated slightly in the wake of Anakin's inane question. The boy was perched on the back of the sofa, his left leg hooked under his right as he watched Daria sort through the pile of her freshly laundered clothes. She smiled.

"Bantha are usually pretty tame, Ani," she explained, folding a vermillion tunic. "That's why the Tuskans on your planet are able to bond with them. Unfortunately for me, the Banthas of Talasea are wild. They were taken there by colonizers years ago, but most of the colonizers have left. With little exposure to humanoid species they've become violent."

"And just what is it you were doing in the forests of Talasea," Qui-Gon queried, brow arched as he eyed Daria sternly. "That is no place to go wandering."

"I wasn't wandering, Master," Daria replied cheekily. "I was travelling in a specific direction for a specific reason." Qui-Gon frowned, familiar with Talasea and the dangers of its forests. He could imagine no reason worth travelling there and once again felt a pang of protective anger that Daria had. "I promise that I was never alone. We were even able to hire a Talasea huntsman as a guide."

Daria's assurances did little to soothe him, but Qui-Gon decided to pursue the matter no further when Obi-Wan entered. His disgruntled padawan was doing nothing to disguise his irritation and Qui-Gon sighed wearily, running his fingers through his steadily greying hair. There was a reason the Order forbade a master from taking more than one padawan. The master would either be killed, kill one of his padawans, or lose his sanity. Qui-Gon was leaning toward the latter.

Mindful of his tone, Qui-Gon turned to address his churlish padawan.

"Obi-Wan, would you please take Anakin and see to helping him gather his things for our journey?"

Obi-Wan's lips tightened fractionally, but he nodded.

"Come, Anakin. We do not want to keep her majesty waiting."

"Is Padme going to be there too," Anakin inquired as he leapt off the back of the couch and sped after Obi-Wan. "I was afraid I wasn't going to get to say goodbye."

Qui-Gon consciously relaxed his shoulders, letting his head drop onto his chest where he stood. Daria glanced at him and moved one of the steadily growing piles of clothes onto the arm of the couch leaving Qui-Gon room to sit. He obliged her, sinking wearily into the worn depths of his sofa, massaging his temples. The girl said nothing, her hands deftly tucking and pulling the brilliant coloured fabrics before adding them to the pile. He could hear Obi-Wan and Anakin shouting at each other, but he found himself abundantly disinclined to intervene.

Having finished her folding Daria knelt and drew out the battered leather duffle that he'd noticed tucked under his couch that morning. She dumped its contents unceremoniously onto the floor and Qui-Gon winced as credits, food wrappers, tools, a dagger, and hair pins scattered. Unconcerned by her own disorganization, Daria proceeded to place her folded clothing in the duffle with a speed that suggested she packed the worn bag frequently. Much like a Jedi, Qui-Gon mused absently as the girl sorted through the debris on his floor. The tools and pins were returned to the bag, the credits tucked into the pocket of her dress, but the dagger, Qui-Gon noted with a tendril of trepidation, was tucked into a sheathe at the top of her left boot.

"Going somewhere, Daria," he inquired softly as the girl surveyed the room with the air of one who won't return. "I had not thought to tell you that you are welcome to stay here in my absence. You would, I think, be much more comfortable here than in one of the guest rooms in the common quarters."

Daria's smile was warm, but her gaze was distant and troubled.

"Thank you, Master, but I fear I must leave as well." She picked up a small datapad that Qui-Gon had seen her reading the day before and tucked it inside one of her folded tunics. "As much as I have missed this place, I don't think I'm meant to stay here for long."

"The Council agreed that you would be safer here, Daria," Qui-Gon reminded firmly. "Your mother's killer might still be trying to locate you, not to mention those that hired him."

"There are some things more important than my safety," Daria murmured, her eyes flicking to the darkened sky outside his window.

"I don't suppose you might be inclined to tell me what these _things_ are?"

"I'm afraid I can't, Master," Daria answered, meeting his gaze briefly before closing her bag. "Not yet."

Qui-Gon frowned, searching the Force for guidance. In answer he felt a small prick and he offered silent thanks before returning his attention to Daria.

"Daria, if you can't tell me what things are more important that your safety, can you at least explain to me why you are leaving the safety of the Temple?"

Daria chewed at her bottom lip, her thumb kneading the strap of her bag as she stood staring at him. Qui-Gon could sense the war within her. When she was a child, her eyes had reflected every emotion she felt. It had been easy to read her. Now she was closed off. Her expression, her stance, her eyes, revealed little. The only sign of the chaos he could sense broiling beneath the surface was the way she worried her lip. Even her mind was closed to him as he attempted to separate the angst radiating from her.

"Please, Daria," he urged quietly. "Please, let me help you."

"I-I am leaving the Temple to help a friend."

Her words were so soft he had to strain to hear them, but they were words. They were something. Qui-Gon latched onto them desperately.

"Does this friend have anything to do with the concerns you brought before the Council?"

"Yes and no," Daria replied, careful to evade his gaze. "Nothing is simple anymore, Master, and there is much I cannot tell you."

Qui-Gon frowned, filing Daria's Yoda-like reply away as he pressed onward, hurrying to glean as much information from her as he could before she shut him out again.

"Can you at least tell me where you are going?" Daria shook her head. "Then can you tell me what you will do when you get there?"

"I will follow the will of the Force, as I have done since my leaving," Daria answered vaguely. "I will do as it asks."

"The Force – for all I trust it – is not so plain as to give directives, Daria," Qui-Gon roared, losing his tenuous grasp on his temper. "It takes discernment, something a child like you does not possess to the degree that you can go running off to the forests of Talasea or some other Force-forsaken planet at its bidding. You're going to get yourself killed!"

"That is my choice, Master." Daria's nervousness was gone and her words had taken on an edge that made Qui-Gon feel uncomfortable. It reminded him that Daria was not the same girl that had left the Temple two years earlier. She could no longer be cowed like a recalcitrant crechling. "I trust the Force. It has kept me alive thus far and that to me is worth more than all the wisdom a Jedi Master might have to offer."

Qui-Gon winced, stung by the bitterness in her voice.

"Daria, I'm sorry. I should not have spoken so rashly, but I worry about you."

Daria's expression softened slightly and she nodded, her right hand brushing against the knife concealed at her thigh.

"I know, Master," she whispered, her smile weary. "So do I." Qui-Gon's heart constricted painfully at her statement as she stood, hitching her bag further up on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Master. I have to go. My friend is expecting me soon and I have a few matters to deal with before I leave."

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to call her back, but closed it without having made a sound. It was no longer his place to protect her, much as it pained him to acknowledge it. As if sensing his pain she glanced back at him over her shoulder, smiling mischievously.

"Don't worry, Master. We'll see each other again, perhaps sooner than you think."

Qui-Gon groaned.

"You should not tease an old man, Daria. His heart might not stand it."

Daria laughed, her earlier anguish having evaporated without reason or warning and for a brief moment Qui-Gon questioned the girl's sanity.

"Your heart is fine, Master, stronger I'd wager, than most men half your age." The door in front of her hissed open and Daria waved back at him. "May the Force be with you, Master."

Qui-Gon nodded absently as the door slid shut behind her, oddly comforted by her abrupt change in mood. Bending at the waist so his elbows rested against his knees he drove his fingers through his long hair, moaning quietly. The Force must think him strong indeed to have him endure the trials of Daria Karzul, Anakin Skywalker, and Obi-Wan Kenobi.

* * *

><p>Daria felt the creases in her forehead deepen. It was no use. No matter how long she stared at it, the robe Padme had given her to wear was revolting. Since leaving the Jedi she had acquired a passion for brilliant colors, but the searing orange fading to a pasty yellow made her long for the begrimed beige robes she'd worn as a padawan.<p>

"Do you need help, Dari?"

Daria scowled at the undisguised delight in Zilas' voice, knowing he could sense her disgust. The only thing stopping her from exacting painful retribution was the fact she was currently stark naked. However, her state of undress did not prevent her from subtly reaching out through the Force and pulling Zilas' feet out from under him. His distressed yelp and subsequent apology drifted to her through the fabric walls of the changing closet Padme was letting her use and she smirked as she slipped into the orange underwear that Padme's handmaiden had instructed her to wear.

Stepping into the boots she'd been given Daria muttered a string of curses that would have made a Hutt blush and cringed as she slid the offensive garment down over her head. She glanced in the mirror behind her. No, it didn't look any better on than it had hanging up. Heaving a petulant sigh she carefully twisted her long white hair into an intricate crown around her head. The slim ring through her bottom lip was removed next and the tattoos on her face hidden beneath a layer of makeup that matched her bronze skin. Last, she pulled up her hood, arranging the hem over her brow. She blinked at her reflection. It was like looking through a window at an identically dressed stranger. She didn't even recognize herself.

"Are you feeling all right, Daria," Padme queried, confusion tingeing her cultured voice. "Zilas told me you were about to blow, but I'm not sure what that means."

Daria laughed at Padme's dignified naïveté as she stepped out of the closet.

"He meant I was about to lose my temper," Daria clarified. "He was taking far too much pleasure from my pain."

Padme laughed.

"I take it you don't like the robes?"

"Let's just say I'm not well suited to the life of a handmaiden."

Padme smiled fondly and took Daria's hands, massaging them gently. It was a habit the younger woman had developed when Daria had first stayed with her on Naboo. She couldn't remember what had prompted Padme to begin it, although it likely had something to do with Daria's three week convalescence after saving the young queen's life. Whatever the reason, it was a custom that Daria found extraordinarily soothing. She'd noticed that it was something Padme only did when they were alone together – or alone except for Zilas – but then, Padme was as a rule altogether different when she could simply be Padme. Not that the younger woman often allowed herself that opportunity with a planet to rule.

"You may not be destined to be a handmaiden, Daria, but I'm glad to have you here with me. I wouldn't trade you for all the properly submissive and courtly handmaidens in the world."

Daria laughed, closing her eyes and rolling her shoulders as Padme's ministrations loosened the taut chords in her neck and shoulders. She sighed with pleasure.

"You know, I think you really missed your calling becoming a queen. You'd have made a glorious masseuse." Daria sensed Padme's playful strike coming before the harassed queen's hand connected with Daria's shoulder. "I could have stopped that you know."

"I know," said Padme. Daria could hear her smile in her voice. "And I appreciate that you humor me. However, if things don't go well in the next few days, I may need that recommendation."

Daria frowned and opened her eyes. Padme's attempt at blithe humor had failed spectacularly. Even without the Force Daria would have been able to sense her fear and to see the tears gleaming in the corners of her eyes. Padme withdrew her hands quickly and turned away, her abhorrence for weakness so ingrained that she could not show it, even to Daria. However, Daria was not one to be so easily dismissed and as Padme made to leave the room Daria seized the young queen's hand. Padme didn't resist any further as Daria drew her against her chest, enveloping them both in the calming depths of the Force.

Knowing idealistic platitudes would not be welcome Daria said nothing as she held Padme tightly against her. She couldn't say everything would be all right. She didn't know that it would be. She couldn't say that Padme would be fine. Only the Force knew such things. She couldn't say that Naboo would recover. Even if it did, the road would not be easy. She couldn't say that the Trade Federation would leave. Naboo was crippled and any help that could be found would not come soon enough to be of any use. But she could hold Padme. She could let her cry. Having cried alone far too many times in the last two years, Daria knew it would be enough.

"Yo! You ladies decent in here?" Daria smiled as Zilas stepped into the room, his left palm flat over his eyes. Padme giggled against her chest. "Just thought I'd let you know that your captain's getting antsy, Majesty. He's going to take flight all by himself if he flaps his arms any harder. Oh, and your Jedi pals just commed to say they were leaving the Temple. Guess that means the fun is officially over."

"Thanks, Zilas." Zilas grinned and winked at Daria between two of his fingers. Zilas' over the top humor might wear on her nerves sometimes, but sometimes he played the fool perfectly. "You can tell the captain we'll be out in just a minute. Padme's still fussing with my robes."

"Will do," Zilas replied, turning on his heel. "I knew you'd never make it as a real girl."

Daria smirked and reached out through the Force, crossing his right foot over his left and sending him sprawling. Using the Force for play was one area where she diverged from the Temple's teachings. She knew Master Windu would have disapproved, but as she withdrew from the Force she felt a happy hum pulsing from it depths that made her think the Force enjoyed playing as much as she did. She both loved and respected the Jedi, but Daria felt their wariness of the Force because of the risk the dark side posed kept them from fully appreciating its diversity. The Force she knew wasn't just about battles, discernment, and wisdom. It was also about joy and so many other wondrous things. She wondered sometimes if Master Yoda felt the same given his proclivity for mischief in the crèche, but she'd never been brave enough to ask him.

Padme sniffed and drew back from Daria.

"What did you do to him now?"

Daria smiled, squeezing Padme's shoulder briefly before crossing the room to a larmalstone table with a small pitcher and basin.

"Nothing he didn't deserve," Daria assured her friend as she poured water into the basin and dipped in a soft cloth that had been laid out beside it. "Don't worry. I didn't hurt anything other than his pride, mostly."

Padme smiled slightly and took the cloth from Daria, pressing it against her blotchy cheeks and red eyes.

"Remind me not to tease you."

"Don't worry, you're safe." Padme dipped the cloth in again, sniffing slightly as she laid it across her eyes. "I don't use the Force against anyone who can't use it back, at least not to tease them. Besides, once Zilas learns to pay closer attention to the warnings the Force gives him, I won't be able to do that, at least not as easily."

"You're always teaching him, aren't you," Padme observed, reaching for a second cloth to pat her face dry. "Half the time I don't think he even knows it."

Daria grinned.

"He doesn't. That's why it works."

Padme returned Daria's smile, her face regaining its usual porcelain hue. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Daria sent a wave of peace to her through the Force. Not being Force-sensitive Padme wouldn't recognize the emotion or feel it physically like Daria did, but she would still feel its effects. Padme opened her eyes.

"You did it again, didn't you?" Daria said nothing, but made no effort to deny the young queen's allegation. Padme scowled. "I thought you didn't use the Force against people who couldn't use it back."

"That rule only applies to teasing."

Padme's scowl deepened and then she did something not even Daria expected. She stuck out her tongue. For a moment Daria just stared at her. She'd never seen Padme do something so undignified. It caught her by surprise. If Padme's flaming cheeks were any indication, the gesture had caught her by surprise as well. Finally, Daria laughed.

"You need to do that far more often," she declared and Padme smiled. "Are you ready?"

Padme looked at the door and nodded, her smile dimming. She might be playing the role of a handmaiden, but those with her knew Padme was a queen and she would comport herself as such. Daria watched the transformation from a mischievous young woman to a stately queen sadly. Padme was a great queen and Daria would never take her away from the people of Naboo. They needed her. She only wished there was a way for her to be Padme too.

As they entered the outer room the other three handmaidens – one of which was serving as Padme's decoy – straightened. The captain ceased his pacing. Only Zilas remained unaffected by Padme's presence, his slouched posture not straightening an inch for her benefit.

"Your Majesty," the Captain greeted smartly, inclining his head as he approached Padme. "Irae and Aeli will walk in front with me. Vira, as your decoy, will take the centre position with you and your companion bringing up the rear. The boy insists on walking with you as well, but I told him that was your decision."

"I think it would be best for everyone concerned if Zilas stayed with Daria, Captain."

Zilas rolled his eyes and Daria smiled, pleased by Padme's rare show of wry humor in public. The captain nodded curtly.

"I think it's time we left then, Captain," Padme suggested, although everyone in the room knew a suggestion from Padme was really an order. "We do not want to keep our Jedi escorts waiting."

The captain opened the doors to Padme's quarters, holding up his hand to halt their progress as he spoke with the two guards that stood at either side of the door. Apparently satisfied by their reports he waved them forward, setting a brisk pace through the hallways of the Senate's guest quarters. His hand never left his blaster and not for the first time Daria longed to feel the weight of her sabre against her thigh as she kept stride with Padme. Her tears spent and her fears indulged, if only for a moment, Padme now walked with a steadfast fortitude that Daria knew would last until the conflict on Naboo was over. There were few people Daria admired more than Padme. Her determination and her resilience were amazing.

"So, are we not allowed to talk or what?" Daria rolled her eyes and glanced at Zilas who was clearly unsettled by the silence of their companions. "What? It makes me feel like someone died."

"The Senate asks that silence be observed in the public corridors of this building in hopes of making this residence a place of rest for the Senators and their guests," Padme answered quietly.

"Sorry," Zilas hissed loudly. From the front of their procession Irae glared at Zilas briefly before returning her gaze forward. Zilas made a rude gesture at the handmaiden's back. "Stuck up litt–

"_You had best not finish that remark, Zilas_," Daria warned softly, switching again to an obscure dialect from the Outer Rim. "_Irae may be too mild-mannered to see you're punished for it. I am not._"

Zilas glowered petulantly and Daria knew she would hear nothing more from him until he'd satisfied his eternal need to sulk. His arrogance and his quick temper were his most crippling shortcomings. He did not like to be reprimanded by anyone, but least of all by Daria who was barely two years older than him. When they were home Daria left Zilas to Rik. The two hundred and seventy pound mercenary was much better equipped to deal with the condescending teen, even if he couldn't use the Force.

The rest of their trek to the flight pad was uneventful and nearly as quiet as their passage through the residence hallways. The strain felt by Padme's companions was palpable, at least to Daria, knowing their families were being held hostage on Naboo and their queen, the one to whom they had pledged their lives, was about to confront the Trade Federation with nothing but a handful of soldiers and a couple of Jedi. Even Padme's captain was tense as he gave orders to his crew, his eyes scanning the skies above them. To Daria it made little sense to risk an attack on Queen Amidala here within sight of the Senate when she was leaving for Naboo, a planet held by the Trade Federation where she would in all likelihood be killed. However, she'd seen less inspired attacks and so she reached out into the Force, letting it heighten her senses so that she could monitor the movements on the flight pad and the surrounding area.

"Padme, if I might have a word?"

"Of course, Captain." Padme glanced at Daria. "If you would excuse me?"

Daria nodded, her eyes following Padme as she and the captain walked a short distance from the others, both speaking quietly as the captain gestured toward the content of his datapad.

"You're doing that radar Force thing aren't you?"

Daria blinked and turned to look at Zilas.

"I'm sorry. Did you just call me a radar?"

Zilas shrugged, still not quite over his sulk.

"I can feel your signature all around me. It's prickling."

"Sorry." Daria closed her eyes and tried to adjust the amount of Force she was dispersing to sense everyone's movements. She opened one eye and glanced at Zilas who nodded. "I've never been very good at controlling the more subtle manoeuvres of the Force. Just ask Obi-Wan or Master Jinn."

"Yeah, well your Jedi friends still think you're no good at using the Force period, so I don't think they're the ones to ask. Especially after seeing what you did to that mountain in the Cloudland Peaks. That was freaking amazing!"

Daria smiled, knowing a blatant compliment would be the only apology she'd get from Zilas. It didn't bother her though. They both knew it was an apology and the fact that he didn't use the two specific words most people deemed a proper apology didn't matter to her in the least. Truthfully, she and Zilas had been through enough together, she wouldn't hold a grudge if he didn't apologize at all. Apologies seemed trivial when you'd been through some of the deepest pits of hell with someone.

"Were you able to get in touch with Telor?"

Zilas grinned and nodded, indicating to Daria that in Zilas' mind, their little spat was forgotten.

"Yup and the compound is still standing. Giz hasn't blown it to pieces, although she did set one of the outbuildings on fire trying to fix that old water dispersal thingy." Daria groaned. "Don't worry, Telor and Rik got it put out before it spread. None of the kids were hurt, although it sounds like Mae ripped Giz a new one. She's going to be clearing the courtyards for a month."

Daria had to laugh at that. Her two years travelling through the systems had brought her in contact with a lot of interesting people. Many of them came and went. Others like Zilas, Telor, Rik, Mae, and Giz, had stayed. Giz was a twelve year old human with a gift for mechanics and mayhem. She was also, like many of those who had stayed with Daria, a Force-sensitive. As much as the Jedi might try, they couldn't find every Force-sensitive in the galaxy. Daria was doing her part to see that those who had been overlooked were given a home, a safe place to explore the Force and the gifts it had given them.

With Zilas' help she'd raised enough capital to buy a massive palace compound that had been abandoned a few centuries earlier on a small moon on the Outer Rim. She didn't want to know where the he'd gotten millions of credits, so she didn't ask. The place was a total dump, but little by little she and her ever-growing group of misfits were making it into something livable. Telor, Giz's father, was in charge of the renovations. He'd been an engineer in the Kol Huro system for years before an accident left him paralyzed from the waist down. His former employer had perceived this to be an unforgivable deficiency and had cast Telor out on the street. When Daria had found him, he'd been working for the Hutts at one of their factories in the middle of nowhere, struggling to support Giz. She had taken it upon herself to liberate the pair, along with a sizable number of the Hutt's precious slave labour force, including herself. That had been nearly a year and a half ago. They'd been with her ever since and she was surprised to find that for the first time since leaving the Temple, she wanted to be 'home.'

"I still can't get a hold of Gael," Zilas continued, unaware of Daria's scattered introspection. "I've tried every way I can think of. I think his shipmates are going to strangle me over the com if I call again."

"Given the impossibility of that scenario, keep trying. I don't want to be going into Naboo blind if I can avoid it."

"Won't your Jedi buddies have some intel?"

"The intel that Master Jinn and Obi-Wan have will be limited since they're the only Jedi that have been in that area since the Trade Federation took control of Naboo. The Order probably has a few civilian contacts in that system, but given the increasing power of the Trade Federation and the decreasing desire of everyone else to confront them, I'm not sure how much use those contacts will be."

"I could come with you, you know," Zilas offered casually, but Daria sensed the tendril of worry curling around him. "You're going into a war zone. It's going to be dangerous and if you get killed, I'll have no one to nag me."

"Thanks for your concern," Daria remarked wryly, nudging him with her elbow as she became serious. "I'm going to be okay, Zi, really. We've both been through worse and come out okay." Zilas nodded, clearly unconvinced. "Besides, I've got something else I need you to do here on Coruscant while I'm gone."

Daria drew a small data drive from the sash of her robe, watching as Zilas hit the display key.

"It's a list of pilots."

"You catch on fast." Zilas rolled his eyes. "I need you to get in touch with them, see if they're willing to be available on short notice in exchange for a generous weekly stipend. If they can't promise they'll be available if we call, don't hire them."

"All right," Zilas agreed. He frowned, his blue eyes searching as he looked up at her gravely. Daria shifted uncomfortably and looked away. "Something's going to happen soon, isn't it Dari?"

Daria nodded, her throat suddenly too tight to release any of the words she might have wanted to say. Something _was_ going to happen soon, several somethings in fact. Her visions were becoming more frequent, more...bleak. She was struggling to believe that the work she was doing, the plans she was putting in place, would be enough to make any difference in the end. She blinked quickly, forcing back the tears and the images that always seemed to be on the periphery of her consciousness. She couldn't escape them. Maybe she was foolish to try. But she had to believe that the Force would not have given her this much direction if it wouldn't make a difference, if there was no chance that she could change things.

"We're going to stop it, Dari," Zilas assured her quietly, squeezing her shoulder and sending a slightly uncontrolled pulse of encouragement her way. Daria smiled at him and nodded. "Now, where's my money?" Daria laughed as Zilas rubbed his hands together greedily. With Zilas, everything was about the money. "What? You don't expect me to go around hiring pilots without money do you?"

"No, I don't." Daria handed him a bag of credits large enough to pay the pilots' first month easily. "Just keep track of it. You're going to be in the Works. I don't want it to get stolen."

Zilas stuck his nose in the air as he snatched the bag.

"As if someone could actually steal something from me. I'm a masterful thief and you know it!"

"I wouldn't brag too loudly here, Zilas," Padme advised as she rejoined them. "My escorts are soldiers. They wouldn't take kindly to knowing they've a thief in their midst."

Zilas waved Padme off with a grin.

"No worries, Majesty, they couldn't catch me if they wanted to."

Padme arched a brow sceptically.

"Perhaps we should put that to the test."

"Please, don't encourage him, Padme," Daria pleaded. "He gets into enough trouble without making a game out of it."

"See, Majesty, she ruins all my fun."

Padme shook her head, her eyes bright with amusement.

"I hardly think so, Zilas, and it would be best if you kept the Majesties to a minimum at this point. Our Jedi escorts will be here soon and they're unaware of my deception, as is our Gungan companion." Zilas and Daria glanced at the Gungan Jar Jar Binks as he clumsily attempted to help Padme's men load the ship. Padme winced as he dropped one of the trunks. "There is more than one reason we sent him to the ship early."

"Master Jinn and Obi-Wan are approaching," Daria informed her two companions quietly. "They should be within sight in a few seconds."

"I'm telling you, I need to take you the next time I go to ste- erm _purchase_ something," Zilas finished awkwardly as Padme cleared her throat. "I'd never get caught if I could see what was coming."

"If you would learn to focus and use the Force better, you could do it all on your own," Daria reminded him to which Zilas rolled his eyes. "And if I remember correctly the last time I helped you _purchase_ something you ignored what I told you and walked into a room of soldiers."

"Semantics," Zilas replied with a grin.

Although Obi-Wan was glad to be leaving Coruscant again so quickly he was having difficulty keeping his jaw from setting as he followed his master to Queen Amidala's flight pad. Anakin's innocent prattle wasn't helping. He glanced up at his master. Why in this one matter was his master so immovable? It wasn't as if he had any deep attachment to the boy, although even Obi-Wan could see his master was perhaps more attached to the boy than was proper for a Jedi. Unfortunately, Qui-Gon's attachment and his compassion were altogether too common a problem. It had led him and Obi-Wan into – as his master liked to say – _delicate_ situations more than once. Then again, it was his master who always got them out of those situations. Not to mention that if it hadn't been for his master's compassion and attachment Obi-Wan would still be working with the Agri-Corps.

Obi-Wan shuddered and released the unpleasant memories of his brief stint on Bandomeer to the Force, along with his resentment toward Anakin and his anger at his master. Probably believing Obi-Wan's release of tension to stem from their impending return to a war zone his master sent him a gentle pulse of reassurance and peace. Obi-Wan met his master's eyes briefly and saw the same emotions reflected in those blue eyes before he straightened his shoulders and returned his gaze forward in an effort to project the confident and capable aura of the Jedi he was meant to be. His facade lasted but an instant before it crumbled at the sight of a scraggly teen with spiked raven hair standing with two of the queen's handmaidens.

"Master," he blurted, unaware that he had stopped walking until his master paused to look back at him. "That boy, the one standing with the queen's maidens, he's the one I saw with Daria outside the temple."

His master frowned slightly and Obi-Wan felt the memory of his earlier blush when his master had dressed him down for spying on Daria. Still, his master did look.

"He looks harmless enough to me, Obi-Wan," his master declared, unconcerned. "Come, we mustn't keep her Majesty waiting."

Obi-Wan couldn't seem to stop the surge of anger that coursed through him. Qui-Gon whirled sharply and took him by the arm, leading him forcibly aside. For Obi-Wan's part, he was too startled by the gesture to resist. All he could think was how such an action must look to the queen and her party. Surely they would think him nothing but an untrained boy, unfit and unable to protect their queen.

"Obi-Wan, I am at my end with you," Qui-Gon whispered calmly although Obi-Wan could sense his composure fraying. "Since Anakin's arrival and Daria's return you have acted like a petulant child. I've half a mind to send you back to the Temple right now before we even board." Obi-Wan stared at his master in alarm. Qui-Gon spread his arms wide. "What would you have me do Obi-Wan? Your adolescent behaviour puts those we protect in danger and me as well. If I cannot depend on you to follow my word without question or offence how can I trust you?"

"You can trust me, Master," Obi-Wan rushed to assure his master, panic and grief filling his heart in equal measure. "I would never let my feelings interfere with my duty or allow you to come to harm. Please, Master, you must know that. I am simply," he paused, struggling to find a word to describe exactly what he was. He found none and bowed his head in defeat. "Master, your care of Anakin and Daria's return have left me feeling unsettled. I-I do not even know myself these last days. If you feel it would be best, I will return to the Temple. I will not fight you. I do not like to fight with you."

Qui-Gon heaved a deep sigh and glanced at Anakin.

"May I go and find Padme, Master Jinn," the boy called, looking longingly to the handmaidens waiting by the ship. "Please. I'll come right back if she's too busy to see me."

Obi-Wan watched as his master nodded and wearily waved the boy away.

"I swear that boy never walks." Obi-Wan was fairly certain his master didn't even realize he'd made the remark. Silence fell between them, Qui-Gon's eyes never leaving his youngest charge. Obi-Wan found he couldn't take his eyes away from his master's. He felt like he was thirteen again, waiting to hear Qui-Gon say he didn't want him, that he'd never be a Jedi. "Obi-Wan, my better judgement tells me that I should make you stay. The jealously that stems from your attachment to myself and Daria goes beyond even what I can permit." Obi-Wan's shoulders wilted. "Yet, the Force tells me that you've a part to play in the days to come and I cannot ignore that." Qui-Gon eyed him sternly as Obi-Wan's head shot up. "Do not think my allowing you to come means that I can ignore your abysmal behaviour these last days. There will be consequences."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan agreed without flinching. Inwardly, he was far less stoic. His master's punishments always encouraged Obi-Wan not to repeat the offense in the most inventive of ways. "Shall I see to helping the queen's crew secure the ship?"

His master nodded silently, but did not follow Obi-Wan as he jogged toward the flight pad. Through their bond he sensed his master as the man dove into the depths of the Force, his frustration, his confusion – and worst – his hurt, seething like a fire threatening to consume Obi-Wan with its intensity. In answer the Force surged forward, enveloping his master with cool comfort that tempered the flames of his spirit.

Guilt wriggled uncomfortably in Obi-Wan's gut. He had not stopped to consider how his tumultuous emotions and uncontrolled insecurities might affect his master. At times they spent so much time together they felt like a single entity, other times a chasm so great separated them he forgot his master completely. His eyes flicked back to Qui-Gon, Master Yoda's words to him as an initiate taking on new meaning as he watched his master war with his emotions.

_Need their padawans as much as their padawans need them, masters do. Makes them stronger, the needing does, but tell them that you must not. Think it a secret, they do._

Obi-Wan looked away from his master, ashamed. He had failed him, just as he had always feared he would. Perhaps the Council had been right to send him to Bandomeer after all. Obi-Wan slowed his steps as he approached the queen's entourage, straightening his shoulders and taking a deep breath. He was _not_ on Bandomeer. He was on his way to Naboo and inept as he might be, he was charged with the protection of the queen and her people. He would not fail his master further.

A large hand gripped his left shoulder firmly and Obi-Wan started, surprised to see his master's assured smile in place as he passed him. In spite of himself, Obi-Wan felt a flicker of relief. Surely if he was beyond all hope his master would have left him at the Temple as he'd said. Obi-Wan quickly dismissed the thought, afraid that if he gave it too much hold in his mind it might become truth.

Qui-Gon's long strides quickly carried him to the queen and for a moment Obi-Wan considered joining him, but his lingering anxiety wouldn't permit it. He was sure if he approached the woman he would revert to his childhood clumsiness, tripping over his own feet or knocking her down. Instead, he turned toward Anakin who stood talking animatedly with Padme and the bedraggled teen.

Padme smiled warmly at the boy's enthusiasm, her brown eyes bright with amusement, but it was another handmaiden that held his attention. She said nothing, but watched the trio with a visible sense of contentment that made her dark features striking against the brilliant hood of her robes.

"So you're really set on becoming a Jedi, are you kid," the teen remarked with a shake of his head. "You don't know what you'll be missing. I could have turned you into the best...entrepreneur the galaxy's ever seen."

The handmaiden with the dark features laughed. Her laughter was unexpectedly familiar to Obi-Wan, although he couldn't guess why. He could only imagine that it was the result of having travelled with the Queen's party from Tattooine. That is, until she spoke.

"That, Zilas, is the most oblique description of your job I've ever heard," she informed the teen with a smile. "You'll have to use that one the next time Mae gives you a hard time for being lazy." Zilas smirked and the maiden turned to Anakin. "Don't listen to a word he says, Anakin. You're better off with Master Jinn and Obi-Wan."

Anakin's eyes widened comically as Obi-Wan continued to struggle with the woman's familiarity.

"Daria!" Obi-Wan's eyes flew to the handmaiden's face in an instant and he caught his master's startled swivel from across the flight pad as Anakin launched himself at the laughing handmaiden. "What are you doing here? Master Jinn said that you had to go and help a friend so you couldn't come with us!"

"I never told Master Jinn that I could not come with you, Ani. Master Jinn simply never considered that the friend I left the Temple to help might be Padme."

"You guys are friends? How did you guys meet? Are you friends with the queen too?"

Padme shifted uncomfortably at Anakin's question, but Daria laughed, ruffling Anakin's hair.

"That's a royal secret, Ani."

"But you are coming with us to Naboo?"

"Boy, kid, you ask more questions than Twila, and that's saying something."

Anakin glared up at the teen, apparently unbothered by the two foot difference in their heights.

"Zilas, be nice," Daria scolded softly, her arm still looped around Anakin's shoulder. "Yes, Ani, I'm coming with you to Naboo."

"Why?"

The word had passed Obi-Wan's lips before he realized he'd parted them, gaining the attention of the small group in front of him. The boy, Zilas, arched a brow and Padme frowned, but Obi-Wan's attention was focused on Daria. She smiled.

"The queen and her people are dear to my heart. When Padme told me of the queen's plans to fight for Naboo I offered to go with her and do what I could to help. The queen accepted."

"But you're not a Jedi!"

Obi-Wan felt his cheeks burning. His mouth seemed to have gained a mind of its own or at the very least, severed its connection with his mind. Padme's frown deepened and Anakin wrapped his arms more tightly around Daria's waist as Zilas took a small step forward placing himself between Daria and Obi-Wan. Daria looked at him sadly.

"Contrary to the belief of some within your order Obi-Wan, the Jedi are not the only people in the galaxy with the skills and the desire to help those in need."

"Yeah, just think of all the mercenaries."

Daria rolled her eyes at Zilas, a shadow of her smile returned as the teen elbowed her gently.

"Mercenaries are hardly representatives of goodness within the galaxy," Obi-Wan countered irritably. "They'll work for whoever offers them the highest number of credits and switch loyalties as it suits them."

Zilas laughed.

"Wow Dari, he's even more uptight than you said he was."

Obi-Wan's entire frame stiffened at the slight and he glared at the unkempt teen, hoping to bore holes into his skull. The teen arched a brow defiantly and crossed his arms over his chest as Daria stepped between them, her eyes hard.

"Stop it, both of you," she commanded and raised her arms as if she might have to physically keep them apart. "You shouldn't be fighting. Not now."

Obi-Wan frowned. Why was now more important than any other moment? Zilas, however, seemed to understand. His obstinate posture wilted and his eyes sought Daria's ruefully. Daria's expression softened minutely as she nodded and turned to Obi-Wan. The rapport between the two only served to nettle Obi-Wan further and rather than acknowledge Daria he turned away from her, seething. He felt a tiny prick through the Force that might have been her hurt, but chose to take no notice of it, his eyes focused on the men loading the queen's ship.

"Come, Ani," Padme prompted quietly, taking the boy by the hand and leading him toward the ship.

Obi-Wan felt, more than saw, the boy looking back at him worriedly. His jaw clenched.

"I think you should go, Zilas," Daria said softly.

She sounded sad and this time Obi-Wan couldn't ignore the prick. He turned to see Zilas nod and reach for Daria's hand, squeezing it as he smiled. Daria mimicked the gesture, but not the smile. The dark haired teen held her gaze searchingly, neither saying anything for a long time, until suddenly, the pair smiled. Zilas drew Daria against him, hugging her fiercely as he whispered to her in a language Obi-Wan didn't understand. Daria answered in the same tongue, hiding her face against Zilas' chest for an instant before he let her go, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek. Obi-Wan's anger spiked and Zilas smirked, startling Obi-Wan into wondering whether the teen had sensed his anger.

"Later Padawan," he called, cutting a lacklustre salute to Obi-Wan as he jumped onto a hoverboard and sped away from the landing pad.

Daria stood, her back to Obi Wan, watching the sky even after Zilas had passed from sight. Obi-Wan had never felt so ill at ease in her presence and for the first time since her arrival he recognized that she was not the same person that had left the Temple two years ago. He could see it in her stance, sense it in her presence, and read it in her eyes as she turned to face him.

"I-I'm sorry, Daria."

Daria pressed her lips in silence.

"Obi-Wan." Obi-Wan pivoted at the sound of his master's voice. "The queen's party has boarded the ship. I need you to do a final sweep of the vessel before I give the pilot the signal to leave. Report to me anything that seems the least bit out of place. I would not put it past the queen's adversaries to attempt to see to it that she does not reach Naboo."

"Yes, Master."

Qui-Gon did not miss the disheartened tone of his padawan's voice as he complied without protest and jogged toward the ship, purposely avoiding Daria's gaze as he passed. His eyes still on Obi-Wan's retreating figure, Qui-Gon spoke.

"You might have told me that you were planning to accompany the queen to Naboo."

"I couldn't," Daria replied, her voice taking on the same uncomfortable edge as when he'd questioned her earlier. "I could not risk the Council interfering."

"You do not trust me to keep your confidences then?"

"I didn't want to put you in a position that would force you to choose between your affection for me and your allegiance to the Order. As much as you might struggle against them, you are loyal."

"Then why come to me at all," Qui-Gon inquired quietly. "You had to know that your presence would put me in a difficult position."

"I needed your help to get access to the Council. I'd hoped to avoid involving you or Obi-Wan, but it became necessary. The only means of protecting you I had left was to limit your knowledge regarding my intentions."

"Ignorance making us inculpable?" Daria nodded. "Judging what information I do and do not need is not your place, Daria, not if you want my help." Qui-Gon sighed and looked back to the ship where two of the soldiers stood guard at the end of the ramp waiting for them. "How can I trust that you are being honest with me knowing you have and may continue to keep information from me?"

"I have told you the truth, Master."

"Yes, but have you told me everything that you know?"

Daria hesitated and then shook her head slightly.

"No, Master."

For an instant, Qui-Gon caught a flicker of fear and pain in her brown eyes. It was gone nearly as quickly as it had appeared, but it had been there. He knew it had, and it only magnified his discomfort. The Force around her was writhing, a sharp contrast to the disturbing calm she was exhibiting under his interrogation. At least she was being somewhat forthcoming.

"I don't understand what it is that you think you're protecting me from, Daria and I wish that you would tell me all that you know," he paused. "However, I will put my trust in you if I have your word that what you _do_ tell me will be the truth and that you will tell me _everything_ I need to know to protect those in my care."

Daria smiled.

"Thank you, Master."

"Your word, Daria," he pressed, keenly aware of the unknown variable Daria presented. "I need your word."

Her smile slipped, but she nodded.

"I give you my word, Master Jinn," she stated solemnly. "I will not deceive you nor will I keep from you any information that could put those under your protection at risk."

Qui-Gon nodded stiffly, finding extracting oaths from a child he had once loved as his own discomfiting. Sensing her dismissal, Daria bowed and walked to the ship. Qui-Gon turned back toward the city, the spires of the Temple just visible. He wondered if he should delay their departure, if he should speak with the Council about Daria, if he should inform them of her presence and seek their help in forcing her to remain here in Coruscant. He was beginning to comprehend just how much of an unknown this new Daria was. It was unsettling, but he forced himself to consider that she could be a threat, a danger rather than a boon. His heart wrenched in his chest, unwilling to believe that she would betray him. She said she'd come to help the Jedi and he'd believed her. He'd never considered that she could be anything other than the kind, playful girl he'd known. Now, he wondered.

_Master, the ship is clear and everyone is on board. We are waiting for your word._

Obi-Wan's voice in his mind, usually a comfort, only reminded him of his padawan's new capriciousness as he strode toward the ship. Unease swirled inside his chest, but he tamped it down. He would not let his doubts rule him. He would continue to see the best in everyone and trust that the Force would guide him.

_Tell the captain to start the engines, Obi-Wan_. A sudden sense of urgency quickened his steps. He was running out of time, although for what, he wasn't sure. _Tell him not to wait for me to reach the bridge, _he instructed his padawan as he stepped onto the ramp._ As soon as the engines are ready, take off._

_Yes, Master._

* * *

><p>Daria walked up the ramp, her body quivering and rigid as she forced herself not to turn back and reassure Qui-Gon of her trustworthiness, not to tell him everything. It had hurt to have him extract an oath from her, if only because it meant he felt he couldn't trust her. Then again, her lack of trust for the Order was what had pushed her to leave two years earlier.<p>

Her eyes burned as she passed two more of Padme's soldiers at the head of the ramp. She refused to let them see the tears she could feel threatening to fall. A door to her left was open and she charged through it, slamming her hand against the closing mechanism as the roaring thrust of the engines pressed against her eardrums. Focusing on the room for the first time she realized it was one of the two conference rooms that the schematics Padme had shown her depicted. It was the smaller of the two with a table and half a dozen chairs. The larger was empty except for the queen's seat and might better have been called a throne room, rather than a conference room.

The ship surged forward and Daria found herself uncharacteristically clumsy, relying on the backs of the chairs to cross the room as they soared up into the planet's atmosphere. As the ship levelled off Daria put her back against the far wall and slid gracelessly to the floor with a hiccupping sob. She drew her knees to her chest and locked her arms around her legs in an effort to still their trembling, biting her lip to muffle her cries. The last few days had been too much. Seeing them all again, seeing concern in their eyes, wanting so much to confide in them, to let them help her, but she knew if she was to succeed they couldn't know, not yet.

There were things that had to happen – things that the Jedi would not allow – if they were to survive. Daria stared unseeingly at the table in front of her. She should have tried to do this without involving the Order. She should have found a way. The Force coiled around her like a serpent, tightening in a soothing manner that brought little comfort. For a moment she resented its gentle presence. It was the one who had chosen her to receive its visions. It was the one who had chosen her to keep its secrets. It was the one that had shown her that to save the Jedi, the Order had to be destroyed.

She rested her head on her knees, giving in to the sobs that made her chest ache. Dimly, she registered the sound of the door opening, but she didn't bother to hide what he'd clearly felt in spite of her instinctive efforts to shield her emotions. He crossed the room in two long strides, dropping to his knees beside her and drawing her into his strong arms as his calloused hand stroked her hair. Burying her face in his robes, she allowed him to comfort her.

"I'm sorry, Master," she managed, her breath coming awkward huffs. She wasn't sure if she was apologizing for hiding things from him or for the pain she knew was coming or for something else entirely. But she couldn't stop. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

"Hush, padawan," he soothed, probably unaware he'd used her former title as he eased the calm of the Force into her troubled mind. "It's all right. We will find a way through this, you and I. We will." He sighed, his arms tightening around her as Daria continued to babble words that were indistinct even to her own ears. "I promise you, we will find a way."

Daria didn't bother to contradict him. Instead, she clung to him like a crechling and allowed him to sooth her, ignoring the hum of danger that was growing louder in the back of her mind as they left Coruscant's atmosphere.

_Please, let there be a way to save them_, she whispered to the Force. _Please._

To be continued...

As always I welcome and encourage responses of all sorts – queries, inquiries, declarations, manifestos, ego-strokes, critiques – all are welcome as all fuel my writing! Best! ~Sierra


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